


IN THE END - draco malfoy

by ariatheacosmist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shadowhunters (TV), The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Shadow World Setting (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Babysitting, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Demonic Parent, Demonic Possession, Don't Try This At Home, Draco Malfoy Has Daddy Issues, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hybrids, I Don't Even Know, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Multi, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Oblivious Maya Rajesh, POC Main character, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariatheacosmist/pseuds/ariatheacosmist
Summary: He knows that she's hiding something. From the moment she stood up to him at the Quidditch world cup, eyes blazing and full of unearthly power, there was something very dark about her, like a shadow waiting to strike. She's mysterious, the new girl whom no one has ever heard of before. But as Draco Malfoy gets closer to the twisted enigma that is Maya Rajesh, he fails to realize that her secret is far less innocent than he expected. A secret which if let loose, could, in the end, be the death of both of them.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Original Female Character (s), Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Maya Rajesh/Draco Malfoy, Nandini Subramanian/Lucian Graymark, Reyna Kouffaine/Astoria Greengrass, Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood, Tessa Gray/Jem Carstairs, [Brief] Arjun Desai/Nandini Subramanian, [Brief] Belial/Nandini Subramanian





	1. Chapter 1

August 2014

* * *

_**CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, MAYA RAJESH**_ loves mornings.

It's not that waking up early doesn't irritate her - on the contrary, it's one of her biggest pet peeves to have to wake up to the sound of an annoying alarm. It's the atmosphere which she likes. The soft sounds of traffic outside - sounds that don't even faze her after five years of living in New York - are what coax Maya out of her heavy slumber, clumsy hands fumbling at her nightstand as she gropes around for her glasses. 

She supposes it's the calmness she likes, the brief period of quiet before the chaos of yet another busy day. A soft silence settles over the room as she slowly gets out of bed, tying her tangled hair into a bun. No one's really awake yet, at this time of day, except her and maybe her mom. It gives her a chance to recuperate, to mentally prepare herself before diving back into her day yet again. Maya straightens her pajamas quickly -which are one size too small and an embarrassing shade of pink - hating the way they've bunched up around her body from tossing and turning during her dreams. 

Today is different, from the rest of the peaceful summer mornings that have transpired like this. It's her last day in New York before she heads off to England for the summer, as preparation for the year she's going to start at Hogwarts. The Weasleys have graciously agreed to take her in - _old friends from when her parents used to live in the UK_ \- for the remaining two weeks, three days of which will be spent at the Quidditch world cup. Maya isn't fully okay with this plan, obviously. She'd rather stay in New York with Alec, Izzy and the gang, but what can you do when your mother has the superpower of being able to guilt you into doing anything?

Halfway through when she's changing her clothes - into her favorite white-t-shirt and jeans with red converse - , a yeasty, sort of sweet smell wafts in from the kitchen, immediately making her look up from when she's tying her shoelaces. Maya frowns, as she wonders what it possibly might be. Her mother clearly doesn't have time to bake anymore, considering demon-hunting takes up most of her energy, and she rarely buys baked goods from outside. It's not like Nandini starves her daughter - _in fact, she sometimes has to force Maya to eat when she accidentally skips a meal -_ neither of them really _want_ to bake or buy things nowadays, since they're both so busy. 

Maya quickly ties her hair into a ponytail, as she walks down to the kitchen. The sight that greets her is a welcome surprise - Nandini chatting with Magnus over a cup of chai, his green eyes lined with their usual splash of flamboyant gold eyeliner. His face stretches into a smile as he catches sight of the young girl, more dressed up than usual in her bright attire. Nandini looks at Maya with a stretch of pity, wondering what exactly she's putting her daughter through by sending her to Hogwarts. 

"Look at you!" he gestures, proudly, "All dressed up for your last day in New York"

"It's not my _last"_ corrects Maya, frowning, "I'll still be able to come home for summer"

"Still, none of us will be seeing you for a while"

"Not much today either," corrects Nandini, wryly,"The Lightwoods have her booked all day."

"Please tell me you'll be home by eight" interjects Magnus, an almost pained look on his face, "I finally managed to make dinner reservations at _La Maison"_

"The place with the amazing canapes and truffle dip?" questions Maya, excitedly. She's been wanting to go there forever, with her friends, but the reservations are very strict, and there's no way they'll let a bunch of teenagers in without prior notice. 

"The very same. Your friends are welcome, but _please,_ tell Alexander to wear something other than black" replies Nandini, expression downcast, "Half the time, he looks like he's attending a funeral"

_Probably because he's been in the closet for the last five years._

"Are those....blueberry scones?" she questions, changing the subject to the basket of baked goods lying next to her mother. 

"Catarina's" replies Magnus, taking one and sighing with pleasure as he bites into it, "I swear to Raziel, they get better with each batch"

"Agreed," she replies, as the sweet doughiness dissolves on her tongue. Nandini shakes her head at the duo, not even grimacing as she takes a sip from her cup of black coffee - her signature drink for every morning. 

"I don't know how you can even stomach eating those" she says, to the two of them, "Full of sugar and whatnot-"

"Who hurt _you_?" asks Magnus, pointedly, sound slightly muffled by the piece of scone in his mouth. 

"No one," replies Nandini, now scowling. 

"You have no soul" Maya tries to state, pointedly, but due to the considerable amount of dough in her mouth, the words come out garbled, as she swallows, "I mean, how can someone _not_ like scones?"

"Are we really having this discussion right now?"

" _You_ started it by insulting perfectly good scones!"

"Magnus, are you siding with my thirteen-year-old daughter?"

" _Who is almost fourteen,_ for your kind information!"

"I only side with the winners, Nandini"

" _Traitor_ "

"Says the woman who passed out from _two drinks,_ after promising to be my wing woman at the _Hunter's Moon_ "

" _That was one time!!!"_

"Suuure..."

Maya rolls her eyes, sliding off of the barstool as she grabs her phone off of the counter. 

"I have to go, anyway" she replies, nonchalantly, "Izzy will _kill_ me if I'm not at the train station by -"

She checks her watch. 

"Fifteen minutes ago - _crap,_ I'm late!"

"Seven-thirty!" reminds Nandini, as Maya's about to rush out the door, a warning look in her eyes, "You can't go to _La Maison_ in that"

Maya rolls her eyes, forcing down a sarcastic retort to appease her mother. 

"Wouldn't dream of it, _mumsie_ "

Nandini sighs as Maya leaves, the door accidentally slamming shut behind her. Magnus waits until she's well out of earshot to drop his smile, replaced with a grim look that cuts straight to the bone. 

"How long are you going to hide this from her, Nandini?" he quips, placing his chai mug on the counter as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

Her facade falls, grip tightening on her mug as a pensive expression appears on her face. Nandini's jade-colored eyes lock with Magnus's, the amount of ferocity in them frightening. 

"As long as I bloody well can"

"She _needs to know"_

"What? That her father is a demon? Not like she hasn't figured it out already"

"You know damn well what will happen if you don't tell her the truth soon"

"She's _thirteen._ Let her be a kid, for once"

"The longer you hide it, the easier it'll be for him to get closer"

"Don't you think I know that?"

"You're clearly not realizing the consequences. She leaves _tomorrow."_

 _"_ Hogwarts is _safe._ He can't harm her if she has the amulet"

"Nowhere is _safe_ unless she knows that her life is in danger. Letting her roam around New York, with the _Lightwoods_ no less, it's a miracle she hasn't been kidnapped yet, or taken to-"

"What do you want me to do? Lock her in the house, make her repeat protective charms and spells - _which she's already learned from you_ \- shut her away from the world? Maya deserves her independence-"

"That's not what I meant-"

"She deserves a _normal life_ , Magnus, like anyone else on this goddamn planet. That's what I'm trying to give her"

"You have to let her go, she's old enough, she'll understand-"

" _No!_ I don't care about what's going to happen or what he'll do to me. I am _not_ putting her in danger at any cost"

" _End of discussion"_

* * *

The swishing sound of skates on ice fill the cavernous room, carving circular patterns as the four of them glide across the floor. Maya laughs as Alec grips onto her for dear life, stumbling as his sister supports him on the other side. His face is red, short puffs of air escaping his throat as he stumbles along the ice, his parabatai not far behind. 

_"I - hate - you - all"_

Both Maya and Isabelle burst into laughter at this, as the three of them finally reach the railing. Alec's cobalt eyes glare daggers at the two of them, wanting to cross his arms over his chest but holding onto the metal behind him for dear life. 

"It's _summer._ Who comes to an _ice-skating rink_ during _summer?"_

 _"_ Us" replies Isabelle, a hint of a smile gracing her features. Standing together like this, the three of them almost look like cousins - they're probably related on some level, considering the fact that Nandini comes from _pure_ Shadowhunter lineage - with the same dark hair and blue eyes, though they're of different shades. The four of them (including Jace) are practically family, having grown up together since they were little kids. 

Maya can't remember much of her life before moving to New York, the defining features of her existence having started right here in the. The few memories that she _can_ recall are hazy, filled with blurry landscapes of the rolling British countryside, the weather muggy and cloud-filled. Her father also appears in some of them, laughing as he pushes her four-year-old self on the swing set. 

She can barely remember what it was like to be with him. 

Maya and her mother have always been a matching set, firmly locked together with a mixture of love and family bonds. They've been on their own for a while, almost ten years, in fact. She gets most of her features from Nandini - pitch-black hair, skinny, small build, high cheekbones, delicate facial structure. But her eyes are the one thing that set her apart from the rest of her family ; dark, dark blue, studded with silver flecks around the iris. 

Eyes that look nothing like either of her parents. 

She knows that he isn't her real father - simply a kind man who raised her as his own daughter. There are pictures of him all over the house, a tall, handsome man in a maroon sherwani on his wedding day, joined by her mother in a regal red saree. But Maya can't replace his position with anyone else in her mind, even if the memories she has of him are far and few between. Arjun will forever hold a place in her heart, a scar that's never really healed in the nine years that have passed since his death.

Nandini has never told her _who_ her actual father was, only mentioned that he was a demon whom had been part of a one-night stand before her wedding. Maya has never questioned it, but she's always been a little suspicious of how tight-lipped her mother has been about _the secret._ She's brushed off her daughter's questions before, saying that she herself didn't know the name of the man in question. But curiosity has gotten the better of her over the years, making Maya's mind run in circles over the possibilities. 

Not that she's ever voiced it out loud. 

Alec and Izzy are the only people who she'd ever trust with something like that. It's not that she has something against Jace - they get along pretty well, actually - it's because of his slight prejudice towards downworlders, people with demon blood in their veins. Though he's never treated her differently because of it - she doesn't know _why -_ Maya is scared to tell him the truth, that she's more of an abomination that people make her out to be. 

That every horrible word the clave has said about her is true. 

"Mini? You there?"

Maya immediately snaps back to reality, shaking her head to rid herself of the waterlogged feeling that's always there whenever she goes deep into thought. Izzy looks at her quizzically, as she returns to her usual demeanor, rolling her eyes at the embarrassing nickname that's been bestowed upon her due to her small size. Alec is unfazed, used to her moments of suddenly spacing out. The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk, as a familiar sight graces the three of them. 

Jace is leaning against the railing on the other side, his dark blond hair pushed back with what suspiciously looks to be a shit ton of hair mouse. He appears to be chatting up a curvy brunette, her mouth in a maroon-lipsticked scowl. She looks to be exactly his type - dark, tall, intimidating, the kind of girl people would avoid on the street. 

The three of them hush their laughter, quietly skating closer to watch the scene unfold. It proves difficult, since Alec has the clumsiness of a drunken troll on skates, but they manage to make it in time. 

".....did you fall from heaven? Because you have the face of an angel"

"Classic" mutters Isabelle, rolling her eyes as Maya snickers, "I've heard him use that one about twenty times"

"Wait for it...." mutters Alec, as the three of them huddle closer together, trying to control their laughter.

"No, I crawled my way out from hell" replies the girl, scowl deepening. 

Jace falters for a moment, before the lazy smirk comes back onto his face. 

"Explains why you're so damn hot"

"Damn" whispers Maya, a low whistle escaping her lips, "You've got to admit it, he's _smooth"_

"The fact that Jace has had five girlfriends in a year bamboozles me" replies Alec, as the two girls give him a knowing look. 

"What?" he questions, shrugging with feigned innocence. 

"You're hopeless, Alec" states Maya, pointedly, turning back to watch the scene in front of them. 

Isabelle doesn't let go of the topic, looking at her brother with a crestfallen expression on her face. Both of them know the real reason Alec's so abraisive towards Jace's relationships - it's the fact that he's in love with the boy himself. Both Maya and him have tried numerous times to get him to admit it, but he refuses. 

And weirdly, Maya _gets_ it. 

If she was in his place, she wouldn't want to say it either. 

"Guys, look"

The brunette girl rolls her eyes, as Jace is in the middle of another one of his "romantic" monologues. Without warning, she flings her hot chocolate directly onto his white t-shirt, the remnants of the scalding liquid steaming out from the paper cup. 

"Here's a warning," she hisses, baring her teeth at a very shocked Jace, "Next time, _take a hint,_ chump"

All of them burst into laughter the moment she left, Isabelle and Maya clutching onto each other for dear life as Alec bends over the railing in hysterics. Jace glares daggers at them, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to cover the hot chocolate stain on his shirt.

"Man, rejection is so much more fun when it's happening to you" Maya finally manages to gasp out, as Jace rolls his eyes. 

"Says the girl who's never had a boyfriend"

"You know how my mom is-"

"Why do I have a feeling that you'll start dating as soon as you get to - what's it called again, _Hogwash?"_

"Hogwarts"

"Yeah, right, that place."

" _Ew_ , I have better things to do"

"Sure, like I didn't see that your search history was full of "Leonardo Dicaprio" "

"I'm human, Jace, not frigid"

Isabelle snorted at this, patting Maya on the head, as the younger girl glared up at her.

"You'll feel differently once you get there, I'm sure"

"Yeah, right. Like I'll be mooning over some boy"

"Please, she'd scare him off with one look"

"Exactly"

Maya smirks as Isabelle rolls her eyes, slinging an arm over her shoulder as they skate to the gate. 

"How about we go get a milkshake at Eddie's to cure Jace's broken heart?"

_"Shut up!"_

* * *

Before Maya knows it, the day is over, the dark hues of dusk settling down on New York city. Isabelle forced her to change, into a simple, sleeveless dark blue dress that falls to her knees, with nude kitten heels. She walks into the restaurant alone, after a grim goodbye with her friends (which was short, considering they're planning to send her off in the morning). Her hair is curled, by Izzy of course, due to the Shadowhunter's insistence that she needed to " _dress for the occasion"._

If anything, Maya feels overdressed. 

In a short while, she spots Magnus and Nandini sitting at a circular table in the corner, sipping white wine from thin-stemmed glasses. Her mother gives her a pointed look, about to admonish her for her lack of punctuality, but she falls short as her eyes catch Maya in her dress, an approving smile curving it's way across her face instead.

"I suppose this is Isabelle's work?" quips Nandini, softly, placing a gentle kiss on Maya's forehead, as a hint of a smile appears on her face. 

"She wanted me to look like a decent human being"

"I disagree," states Magnus, smacking his lips as he took another sip of wine, "You look beautiful, muffin, as always"

"That's because of _my genes"_ replies Nandini, proudly, as the warlock rolls his eyes. 

"Suure..."

"Oh my god, Mina, _get back here_ -"

Maya's face breaks out into a smile, as a tiny girl in a pink dress toddles over to her, reaching her chubby arms up so she can be lifted into Maya's lap. 

"You didn't tell me Tessa was coming!" she replies, exactly the moment where a pretty woman in her twenties runs over to the table, purse swinging violently on her elbow. 

"Well" replies the panting woman in question, brushing the nonexistent dust off of her pale blue dress, "It was supposed to be a surprise, but uh - _that one_ there - " she points to Mina, "decided to pour the milk into the sink when we were about to leave"

"Dum-dum told me to!"

"This imaginary friend thing is getting completely out of hand, " replied Tessa, exasperated, as Maya laughs, shooting her a warning look, "It's not funny! - She once put my hairpins into the microwave because of the _exact same reason!"_

"I thought they were _marshmawows_!"

"Why would you think that, sweetie?"

"Because _Mommy_ said that _marshmawows_ go black once they're roasted!"

"If they were already roasted, why would you put them in the microwave?"

"Because Magnus told me to have high _standwawds"_

All eyes immediately flit to the warlock in question, who freezes midway through taking another sip from his glass. 

"Don't look at _me_ "

"One of these days..." mutters Tessa, giving Magnus a disapproving look as he rolls his eyes. 

"Can you believe how grown up she is?" he states, gesturing to Maya, who blushes, "It feels like just yesterday, she was walking around with that old blanket - what did she call it?"

"George" corrects Maya, a little embarrassed at her childhood "companion" - a threadbare blanket that had once belonged to her father - Arjun, of course. 

"Ahh yes," continues Nandini, fondly reminiscing on old memories, "She used to want to hear stories about my missions all the time - the kid-friendly ones, of course"

"Yeah, now I know the real ones" replies Maya, looking surprised at her mother's affronted look, "What? Maryse told me everything"

"And I wonder why you hang around with the Lightwoods so much"

"Especially _Jace_ " states Tessa, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows as she takes a sip of her water, "You'd think there was something going on between you two, the way you act around each other"

Both Nandini and Maya choke on their respective drinks at the same time, as Magnus's eyes widen. Nandini tries to speak first, opening her mouth in indignation, but her daughter beats her to it. 

"Ew! He's like my _brother!"_ she groans, insides already squirming in disgust at the thought of dating _Jace._

"Besides, she's too young for a boyfriend" Nandini finishes, shooting her daughter a pointed look as Maya rolls her eyes. 

"You never know with them at this age" replied Tessa, mystically, "Once she gets to puberty, though, _that's_ when all hell breaks loose"

"Oh my god-"

"Ugh, don't remind me" replied Magnus, lip curling in distaste, "They're so disagreeable when they get to that age"

"Stubborn"

"Rebellious"

"Noisy"

Maya rolls her eyes, as the adults around her immerse into conversation. Though they're mildly insulting her (or at least her future self), she fights a rueful smile as she looks down at the toddler in her lap, beaming up at her with a confused look. 

"You going to miss me Mina?" she asks, softly, the child giggling as Maya gently boops her on the nose with her pointer finger. 

"Nuh-uh!" replies Mina, laughing as Maya fakes a sad look. 

"Really?"

"Okay, maybe a _wittle_ bit..."

And for a moment, she genuinely feels at home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**August 2014**

* * *

**_TWO DAYS LATER, MAYA IS BOTH CONFUSED AND INTRIGUED_** at the sight in front of her.

Her mother is holding the map in utter confusion, the yellowed edges of the parchment contrasting greatly with her crimson-painted nails. It's a little after seven in the evening, the time where the sky is streaked with beautiful hues of pink and gold with strips of white clouds floating here and there. The sight is ethereal, majestic, an idyllic backdrop of the English countryside. 

"Mom, are you sure we're in the right place?" Maya asks, apprehensively looking at the house - _if she can even call it that_.

"That's what these directions say" replies Nandini, frowning, "Wait, let me try Google Maps-"

"There's no signal out here"

"Oh, hush"

Maya sighs, knowing that her mother's mind clearly isn't in any discernible place on the earth at this very moment. Nandini has been oddly distracted ever since they arrived in London, the day before yesterday, barely speaking to her only daughter for a reason she can't even begin to imagine. She knows it's probably just separation anxiety, that her mother is preparing herself for not being able to see Maya for nine months. 

But some deep instinct tells her that there's more to it. 

The structure in front of her is quite.... _bizarre,_ to say the least. It looks like someone has stacked two different houses on top of each other, with little to no support from the ground. Rooms are haphazardly jammed in between the slats, made of vastly different materials. It reminds of her of a patchwork quilt, mismatched yet oddly comforting. Warm light spills from the inside, the smell of baking bread drifting out towards them. A shabby pair of boots lay haphazardly next to the door, followed by a trail of feathers that indicate the presence of domesticied chicken nearby. It fills Maya with a sort of longing, a brief happiness at seeing a house look so much like _home._

Though she bets that Magnus would be horrified if he saw the architecture. 

Her thoughts are abruptly cut short, as a plump, red-haired woman makes her way out the door, her face lighting up the moment she catches sight of the two clueless young women standing in the grassy field. 

"Nandini!" she replies, rushing over to her mother with open arms, "It's been far too long!"

"Bloody hell, Molly, it has" states her mother, sweetly, as the two older women embrace, "How're Arthur and the kids?"

"They're a riot, as usual. Arthur's in Surrey to pick up Ha-"

A crash resounds from inside. 

"And they're back" finishes Molly, tutting in disapproval as the faint sound of voices start to resound from the house. 

When they walk in, two teenagers are congregated around the fireplace, chattering excitedly, along with a skinny, black-haired, bespectacled boy with a lighting-shaped scar on the side of his forehead. 

"..Did he eat it?" asks one of the tall ones, animatedly, a devious grin spreading over his freckled face. 

"Yeah" replies the black-haired boy, straightening up, "What _was_ it?"

"Ton-tongue toffee. George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer...."

The tiny kitchen explodes with laughter, mainly from the four boys sitting at the fresh-scrubbed kitchen table. 

"How're you doing, Harry?" says one of them, standing up and extending his hand. His face is broad and good-natured, which is weather beaten and so freckly that it almost looks tanned - with muscular, well-built arms, one with a large, shiny burn on it. 

Wait... _Harry?_

Everything suddenly starts to make sense in Maya's head - wild, messy hair, emerald green eyes, nervous demeanor, glasses and lightning-shaped scar. 

Oh my god, that's Harry _freaking_ Potter. 

Before she can have time to process this, however, all eyes are on her, the Weasleys finally having noticed that she's in the room. Molly is the first to react, an embarrassed flush on her cheeks at the half-alarmed, half-curious expression on Maya's face.

She doesn't blame her. 

Any sane person would fear for her sons's sanity if they heard this conversation _completely out of context._

"I'm so sorry, dear, I almost forgot!" she exclaims stepping forward to pull Maya into an unexpected hug, "Have you eaten lunch yet? There's soup on the stove, it'll be ready in just a bit!"

"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley, and thank you" replies Maya, politely, the woman's eyes lighting up at the young girl's shyness. 

"Boys, this is Maya," she states, as the Weasleys at the table snap back to her, "She'll be staying with us for the remainder of the summer, and I expect you to be on your best behavior around her-"

"Mum, you're acting like we're vicious dragons-"

"Considering what just came out of George's mouth, I'm surprised she hasn't run for the hills yet-"

"Trust me, my friends have said weirder things before" replies Maya, quickly, a blush forming on her cheeks as she tries to ease the tension. 

Easy laughter breaks throughout the room, specifically from one of the younger boys sitting at the table. He looks to be about her age, tall and lanky, with violently ginger hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. 

"I'm Ron" he offers, introducing himself as Maya smiles softly, "You're from New York?"

"Queens" she clarifies, as a curious expression breaks out onto his face. 

"That's where the Institute is, right?"

"No, it's all the way in Manhattan-"

Before Maya can continue their conversation, two more people step out of the fire, which glows green from floor powder. The older man, probably in his 30s or 40s, brushes the dust off of his coat, a furious expression onto his face as the boy next to him gives him a sheepish look. 

"That wasn't _funny,_ Fred!" he shouts, visibly irritated, "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

"I didn't give him anything," replies the boy in question, a devious grin coating his face, "I just _dropped_ it......It was his fault that he went and ate it, I never told him to"

"You dropped it on purpose!" roars the man, who Maya now guesses is probably Mr. Weasley, "You knew he'd eat it, You knew he was on a diet-"

"How big did his tongue get?" asks George, eagerly who she thinks is Fred's twin. 

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"

Everyone bursts into laughter again, even Maya, who has absolutely no clue what's going on.

"It isn't funny!" shouts Mr. Weasley, "“That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard–Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons —”

“We didn’t give it to him because he’s a Muggle!” says Fred indignantly.

“No, we gave it to him because he’s a great bullying git,” replies George, scowling. “Isn’t he, Harry?”

“Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley,” says Harry earnestly.

“That’s not the point!” rages Mr. Weasley. “You wait until I tell your mother —”

“Tell me what?” says a voice behind them

Maya turns to find Mrs. Weasley standing in the doorway, an expression of pure suspicion on her previously kind face. Along with her are two girls, one of whom has incredibly bushy hair and rather large front teeth. A ginormous ginger cat is perched in her arms, face rather flattened, as though it's run straight into a brick wall. The other one is rather small and redheaded, just about her height. She blushes quite adorably as Harry returns their previous smiles, which makes Maya suspect a beginning of a possible crush. 

Not that it's any of her business. 

“Tell me what, Arthur?” Mrs. Weasley repeats, in a dangerous sort of voice, one that she's only ever heard her mother use in absolute fury.

“It’s nothing, Molly,” mumbles Mr. Weasley, clearly very intimidated by his wife, “Fred and George just — but I’ve had words with them —”

“What have they done this time?” says Mrs. Weasley.

“If it’s got anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes —”

“Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, Ron?” says the bushy-haired girl, from the doorway, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. 

“He knows where he’s sleeping,” says Ron, “in my room, he slept there last —”

"Ginny, why don't _you_ show Maya where she's sleeping?" asks Mrs. Weasley, pointedly, as the girls finally notice she's in the room. They exchange polite smiles. 

"Hi, I'm Hermione"

"Ginny"

"Maya - wait, you already knew that"

Nervous laughter ensues, none of them knowing what to do to calm down the daggers that are currently spewing from Mrs. Weasley's eyes. 

“We can all go,” says Hermione pointedly.

“Oh,” says Ron, finally taking the hint. “Right.”

“Yeah, we’ll come too,” said George.

“You stay where you are!” snarled Mrs. Weasley

Harry and Ron edge out of the kitchen, and they, Hermione, Ginny and Maya set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzaggs through the house to the upper stories

. “What are _Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?_ ” asks Maya, confused, as they climb.

Ron and Ginny both laugh, although Hermione doesn't.

“Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George’s room,” says Ron quietly. “Great long price lists for stuff they’ve invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they’d been inventing all that . . .”

"Wow..." replies Maya, a little shocked at what the Weasley twins get up to in their spare time. 

Her mother would _murder_ her if she ever tried something like that.

“We’ve been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things,” says Ginny, sheepishly. “We thought they just liked the noise.”

“Only, most of the stuff — well, all of it, really — was a bit dangerous,” says Ron, “and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms. . . . She’s furious at them anyway. They didn’t get as many _O.W.L.s_ as she expected.”

 _O.W.L.s_ , to Maya's understanding, stand for Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the examinations Hogwarts students take at the age of fifteen. She, thankfully, is exempt from them for another year, being only thirteen, the youngest student in her year.

“And then there was this big row,” Ginny continues, “because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop.”

Just then a door on the second landing opens, and a face pokes, out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.

“Hi, Percy,” says Harry, warily.

“Oh hello, Harry, Maya” says Percy, nodding briefly in her direction . “I was wondering who was making all the noise. I’m trying to work in here, you know — I’ve got a report to finish for the office — and it’s rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs.”

“We’re not thundering,” says Ron irritably. “We’re walking. Sorry if we’ve disturbed the _top-secret_ workings of the Ministry of Magic.”

“What are you working on?” says Harry, curiously. 

“A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” replies Percy, smugly. “We’re trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin — leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year —”

“That’ll change the world, that report will,” says Ron, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks.”

Percy goes slightly pink.

“You might sneer, Ron,” he says, heatedly, “but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger —”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” says Ron, rolling his eyes and he starts off upstairs again. Percy slams his bedroom door shut. As Harry follows Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echo up to them. It sounds as though Mr. Weasley has told Mrs. Weasley about the toffees.

This surely has been interesting so far. 

"C'mon" gestures Ginny, leading Hermione and Maya towards the landing. She opens the door to another room, the ceiling slanting towards the chimney. Two beds lay in the centre, the dresser leaning against the faded, daisy-patterned wallpaper, piled with books and assorted posters. A spare cot lays in the middle, piled with pillows and mismatched blankets. 

It's not home, but it certainly feels comfortable.

Suddenly, staying with the Weasleys suddenly doesn't seem like that bad of an idea. 

"What's that in your pocket?" asks Hermione, suddenly curious. 

Maya is confused at first, but she soon picks up on the hint as Hermione's eyes flit to the metal rod in the back pocket of her jeans. She slowly takes it out, admiring the runes etched onto the beautiful _adamas._

"It's a _stele"_ she explains, lightly turning it over in her hands, "I use it to draw runes"

"Your mother is a Shadowhunter, right?" questions Ginny, lightly. Maya can tell that both of them are genuinely interested, not in a prying way, but in an _"oh my god that's so cool"_ way. 

Who is she to deny them?

"Yeah," replies Maya, with a proud smile, sitting down on the bed, "She's head of Defense at the Institute"

"If you don't mind me asking, why don't you have any runes?" questions Hermione, brown eyes casting over Maya's little exposed skin. 

Maya's breath catches in her throat, as the question persists in the air. These people are dangerously close, close to the secret that she's been forced to hide. 

The secret that's forced her to _run_ all her life.

She decides to give them the _short_ version of the story. 

"I'm only _half_ nephilim," she explains, "Well, not exactly half - I think it's more complicated than that, actually - but the short version is that I never knew my father. My _biological_ father, I mean. My adoptive dad passed away when I was four. Anyway, um, I have demon blood, and the way it reacts and functions with my body means that I can't draw runes - on _myself_ , - they just...disappear."

To demonstrate, she draws an agility rune on her wrist, the sting not even bothering her anymore. It's the most basic one she can think of, taught in primary school for budding Shadowhunters. It glows on her skin for a brief moment, the dancing gold glitter lighting up the room, before fading away, leaving no trace of the markings that were once on her skin. 

"Bloody hell" whispers Ginny, shock and awe laced into her voice at the same time, "You really are something, eh?"

" _Apparently,_ " replies Maya, lightly, causing the redhead to laugh.

"I can't believe I've never heard of this before!," exclaims Hermione, curiously, as Maya resists the urge to roll her eyes, "Are there others like you?"

"Not that I know of" she replies, uneasily, deciding not to reveal Tessa's identity. 

The last thing the poor woman needs is scrutiny from the wizarding world. 

"What's your body count?" asks Ginny, nonchalantly, like the question is what she ate for breakfast. 

If Maya was drinking water, she would've spit it out immediately. 

Hermione shoots her an alarmed look, as Maya clears her throat, fidgeting with her top before answering. 

"Two spiders"

There's an awkward silence for a minute, before they realize that Maya's joking. Easy, relieved laughs erupt from all of them, the start of a robust friendship blooming in the moonlit sky. 

"Relax, I'm not allowed to go on missions....thanks to my mum. She's never really wanted me involved in that side of our lives" replies Maya, a teasing smile on her face, "However, the moment I turn sixteen-"

"You'll set the world on fire" finishes Ginny. 

She has absolutely no idea what she's talking about.

Or how true her words will become.

* * *

It feels like she's just closed her eyes, when Mrs. Weasley gently shakes her awake. 

"Time to get up, dear" she coaxes, softly, as Maya resists the urge to groan, sitting up and stretching out her back with a sigh. 

It's still dark out, as they all get dressed, not even talking, the silence punctuated with yawns and sighs. Maya grabs the first clothes she can find - a pair of black jeans and a dark green crop top that Isabelle bought her in secrecy. She laces up her signature converse clumsily, not even sweeping her hair out of her eyes so she can see. 

Jet lag really has decided to kick her arse today. 

Maya plays with the end of her braid as they all walk down into the kitchen, Ginny almost slamming directly into her with grogginess.. Her quick reflexes thankfully save her from being crushed to a pulp by a treacherous fall from the steep stairs. 

"M'sorry," grumbles the redhead, rubbing her eyes with sheer exhaustion, "Just so...tired"

"It's fine," she replies, stretching out yet again (there are numerous knots in her back from tossing and turning the entire night), "I'm not much of a morning person either"

Hermione, however, is the most chipper out of the three of them, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Maya and Ginny look at her suspiciously, with narrowed eyes and skepticism, wondering exactly how much coffee she's had to make her so _unnaturally_ chipper. 

"What?" she quips, as Mrs. Weasley stirs a pot of something on the stove, noticing the way the two other girls are staring at her. 

"How are you so...happy? _"_ questions Maya, voice dripping with drowsiness. 

"Yeah, it's so _early_ " mutters Ginny, leaning against Maya as the other girl wraps an arm around her shoulder, "Not even close to _'awake time'_ yet"

"Just habit, I guess" replies Hermione, shrugging in nonchalance, a hushed yawn slipping out from her lips. Maya envies her ability to keep a clear head, in the wee hours of the morning, push sleep to the back of her mind as she prepares for the day ahead. 

Maybe if _she_ could muster some of that gumption, Maya wouldn't have stumbled directly into a wall one fine morning two weeks ago.

"Oh good, you're all here!" exclaims Mr. Weasley, seated at the table as he looks through their tickets, “We’ve got a bit of a walk,”

“Walk?” says Harry, confus4ed. “What, are we walking to the World Cup?”

“No, no, that’s miles away,” he replies, smiling. “We only need to walk a short way. It’s just that it’s very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup —”

“George!” says Mrs. Weasley, sharply, as they all jolt to full alertness at her tone.

“What?” replies George, in an innocent tone that sounds exactly like Isabelle trying to explain to Maryse why she walked back home in last night's dress, reeking of alcohol

“What is that in your pocket?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t you lie to me!”

Mrs. Weasley points her wand at George’s pocket.

_“Accio!”_

Several small, brightly colored objects zoom out of George’s pocket; he makes a grab for them but misses, and they speed right into Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched hand.

 _Oh my god,_ Maya thinks to herself, astounded _They really tried to smuggle the sweets to the World Cup._

“We told you to destroy them!” says Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what are unmistakably more _Ton-Tongue_ Toffees. “We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!”

It's an unpleasant scene; the twins have evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it's only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley manages to find them all.

. _“Accio! Accio! Accio!_ ” she shouts, and toffees zoom from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George’s jacket and the turn-ups of Fred’s jeans.

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred shouts at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

“Oh a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieks. “No wonder you didn’t get more O.W.L.s!”

The atmosphere is understandably tense as they leave, a glowering Mrs. Weasley kissing her husband on the cheek, rucksacks hoisted on their backs. Maya sticks next to Harry and Mr. Weasley, surprised at how difficult she finds it to keep up with them. 

“So how does everyone get there without all the Mundanes - sorry, _Muggles -_ noticing?” she asks,

“It’s been a massive organizational problem,” sighs Mr. Weasley. “The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven’t got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can’t penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many antiMuggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry’s been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can’t have too many clogging up their buses and trains — remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there’s a handy wood they’re using as the Apparition point. For those who don’t want to Apparate, or can’t, we use Portkeys. They’re objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that’s where we’re headed.”

The amount of talking starts to cease, as they begin to near the top. Maya is honestly a little ashamed at how she's huffing and puffing for just _climbing up a hill._ After all, this shouldn't even feel that bad, considering the side effects she felt after spending hours in training for her shapeshifting powers with Tessa. 

“Whew,” pants Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater.“Well, we’ve made good time — we’ve got ten minutes. . . .”

Hermione comes over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

“Now we just need the Portkey,” says Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. “It won’t be big. . . . Come on . . .”

They spread out, searching. They've only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rings the still air.

“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!”

Two tall figures are silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

“Amos!” says Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strides over to the man who's shouted.

The rest of them follow. Mr. Weasley was shaking is with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who's holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

“This is Amos Diggory, everyone,” says Mr. Weasley. “He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?”

The first thing Maya notices about Cedric - _ashamedly, she admits -_ is his stunning looks; dark copper hair, oceanic eyes, lean, sinewy frame and a dimple in his left cheek as he smiles, good-naturedly. He's the type of handsome that belongs in an another time, the kind that Isabelle would dismiss as being too _“nice-guy looking”_

“Hi,” says Cedric, looking around at them all.

“Long walk, Arthur?” Cedric’s father asks

“Not too bad,” says Mr. Weasley. “We live just on the other side of the village there. You?” 

“Had to get up at two, didn’t we, Ced? I tell you, I’ll be glad when he’s got his Apparition test. Still . . . not complaining . . . Quidditch World Cup, wouldn’t miss it for a sackful of Galleons — and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy. . . .” 

Amos Diggory peers good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, her, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny

. “All these yours, Arthur?” “

Oh no, only the redheads,” says Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. “This is Hermione, friend of Ron’s — Maya, we knew her father well at school, and Harry, another friend —”

“Merlin’s beard,” says Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. “Harry? Harry Potter?”

“Er — yeah,” says Harry, uncomfortable.

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” says Amos Diggory. “Told us all about playing against you last year. . . . I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. . . . You beat Harry Potter!” 

Maya stays silent, knowing that this probably isn’t in her place to discuss. Fred and George are both scowling again. Cedric looks slightly embarrassed.

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he mutters. “I told you . . . it was an accident. . . .”

He’s more decent of a person than she originally figured. 

It’s in her nature to expect the worst of people - in fact, it’s not even something she’s proud of. Maya does try to see the good in everyone, harness the ability that makes her mother so well-liked in the Nephilim community, 

“Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” roars Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!” 

“Must be nearly time,” says Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. “Do you know whether we’re waiting for any more, Amos?”

“No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn’t get tickets,” says Mr. Diggory. “There aren’t any more of us in this area, are there?”

“Not that I know of,” says Mr. Weasley. “Yes, it’s a minute off. . . . We’d better get ready. . . .” 

He looks around at Harry and Maya. 

“You just need to touch the Portkey, that’s all, a finger will do —” 

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowd around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. They all stand there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze sweeps over the hilltop. Nobody speaks. It suddenly occurs to Maya how odd this would look if a Mundane were to walk up here now . . . ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting. . . 

. “Three . . .” mutters Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, “two . . . one . . .”

And with a bang, they’re off to the Quidditch world cup.

* * *

“Prime seats!” says the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checks their tickets. “Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go.”

 _Wow_ , thinks Maya to herself, impressed as they enter the stadium. She didn't expect the seating to be _this_ fancy, although Nandini did hint that it would be nice. She stifles a yawn, the exertion from the walk and the amount of time it took to set up everything catching up to her. 

Or maybe it's just the fact that she lay awake almost all night due to jet lag. 

At least, that's what she tells herself.

The stairs into the stadium are carpeted in rich purple. They clamber upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filters away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley’s party keeps climbing, and at last they reach the top of the staircase and find themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts.

About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stand in two rows here, and Maya is utterly dumbstruck, looks down upon a scene the likes of which she could never have imagined. A hundred thousand witches and wizards are taking their places in the seats, which rise in levels around the long oval field. Everything is suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seems to come from the stadium itself. The field looks smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stand three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, a little above Maya's eye level, is a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing keeps dashing across it, as though an invisible giant’s hand is scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Maya realizes that it's flashing advertisements across the field, similar to the way sponsors paint themselves across the boundaries in mundane football. 

Some things never change. 

She looks to her right, to see Harry deeply engaged in conversation with a house-elf, eyebrows furrowing by the second. A flurry of excitement goes through her at the game she's about to witness. Maya has never been the type of person to be enthusiastic about sports, though she's no stranger to exercise and physical exertion. But standing here, almost at the top of the world, she suddenly understands why her father (Arjun) used to love Quidditch so much. The collective tension merges, and though she tries to hide it, the corner of her mouth turns up with anticipation, as she turns back to observe the scene around her.

Ron pulls out his Omnioculars and starts testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

“Wild!” he says, twiddling the replay knob on the side. “I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again . . . and again . . . and again ."

Gross.

Hermione, meanwhile, is skimming eagerly through her velvet-covered, tasseled program.

“ ‘A display from the team mascots will precede the match,’ ” she reads aloud.

“Oh that’s always worth watching,” says Mr. Weasley. “National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.”

"Sounds interesting" quips Maya, as Ron gives her an approving grin.

The box fills gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley keeps shaking hands with people who are obviously very important wizards. Percy jumps to his feet so often that Maya has to resist the urge to snicker; he looks as though he's trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrives Percy bows so low that his glasses fall off and shatter. Highly embarrassed, he repairs them with his wand and thereafter remains in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend.

“Harry Potter, you know,” he tells the Bulgarian minister loudly, who's wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and doesn’t seem to understand a word of English. “Harry Potter . . . oh come on now, you know who he is . . . the boy who survived You-Know-Who . . . you do know who he is —”

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spots Harry’s scar and starts gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

“Knew we’d get there in the end,” says Fudge wearily to Maya, who gives him an awkward nod. “I’m no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf’s saving him a seat. . . . Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places . . . ah, and here’s Lucius!”

Maya turns, as Mr. Weasley's face morphs into one of grim placidness. She gently pushes past Ron to find the object of his clear irritation.

A tall, blond man comes into focus, his robes clearly expensive, with a silver carved cane to match. He wears a snooty expression to match, pale blue eyes glittering with something that makes Maya take an instant dislike to him. A woman, who she assumes is his wife, stands next to him, tall and slim. She's clearly attractive, all sharp-featured and grey-eyed, but it's dampened by the expression on her face, as though there's a nasty smell under her nose that she just can't shake. 

However, Maya's eyes immediately flit to the two teenagers standing directly behind them ; a boy and a girl. The boy shares the height gene that looks to be predominant in their family, easily clearing six feet in his all-black suit - a bit _extra_ for the occasion, considering they're at a Quidditch match. His hair is the whitest blond she's ever seen, almost glowing against the `dark backdrop of the star-studded sky around them. She can't really see his face, but when he turns to look their way, her eyes accidentally lock with his, dark pools of grey, the exact color of mercury. 

Maya has the urge to shudder, but she represses it, not letting herself be intimidated by someone she hasn't even _met_ yet. 

The girl, however, she picks up a different energy from. Her hair is the same color, pulled back with a headband and cut just above her shoulders, but with more yellow tones, contrasting greatly against her red sweater, that's tucked into an expensive black skirt she suspects costs more than her college savings. She gives Maya a soft smile, as soon as their eyes flit to each other, and she can't help but return it, feeling a sort of warmth emanating from this new person, a sharp difference from the rest of her family, who all look like the iceberg that ended the _Titanic._

“Ah, Fudge,” says Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reachea the Minister of Magic. “How are you? I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our children, Draco and Diana?”

“How do you do, how do you do?” says Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. “And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr. — well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?”

The moment is very tense - Maya suddenly feels like she's intruding on something private. The two families glare at each other with pure loathing, except Diana, who shares the same confused expression as her. 

“Good lord, Arthur,”says Lucius, softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Maya suddenly has a vivid vision of her fist connecting with his face, and has to look away so she can compose herself. 

Fudge, who isn’t listening, says, “Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

“How — how nice,” says Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy’s eyes have returned to Hermione, who goes slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. However, they quickly flit to Maya, scanning her up and down with calculation, triumphance glittering as she crosses her arms over her chest. She narrows her eyes, using the look that's worked so well on everyone back home - _resting bitch face,_ as Jace likes to call it - and feels a sliver of satisfaction as he looks away, though his son's eyes on her still persist. 

She ignores him. 

However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy doesn't dare say anything. He nods sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continues down the line to his seats. The boy shoots Harry, Ron, and Hermione one contemptuous look, though his eyes linger on her, then settled himself between his mother and father. Diana waves at Maya with a smile, but it quickly falls from her face as her brother whispers something in her ear, immediately looking away with a flush on her cheeks.

“Slimy gits,” Ron mutters as he, Harry, Hermione and Maya turn to face the field again.

" _Indeed_ " replies Maya, sardonically.

Next moment, Ludo Bagman charges into the box.

“Everyone ready?” he says, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. “Minister — ready to go?"

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” says Fudge, comfortably.

Ludo whips out his wand, directs it at his own throat, and said “Sonorus!” and then speaks over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoes over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

* * *

Long story short, Ireland lost, Krum catching the Snitch at the very last moment. 

Maya's still a little miffed from her expectations. 

"Viktor I love you-"

"Viktor I do-"

"When we're apart-"

"My heart beats only for _yooou!!"_

Maya and Ginny double over in almost-hysterical laughter, at the Twin's teasing of Ron, who looks very, very offended, the tips of his ears burning scarlet from sheer embarrassment. Hermione smiles, as Maya sees her eyes, which are adoringly trained on the redheaded boy. 

Looks like someone has a crush. 

"Shut up" he mutters, almost going scarlet.

"I think you're in love, Ron" teases Ginny, as tears of mirth escape Maya's eyes. The moment is light, happy, giving her a sensation of security that she hasn't felt in a while. For once, Maya feels like she _belongs,_ feeling none of the usual anxiety and stress that comes with new situations and meeting new people. 

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley rushes in, all chatter ceasing at the grave, urgent look on his face. 

"“Get up! Ron — Harry — Maya, come on now, get up, this is urgent!”

They all give each other confused looks, standing up as Maya brushes the nonexistent dust off of her jeans. A sudden tremor goes through her as she hears screams - _horrified ones -_ and she instinctively grabs her phone from one of the beds, practically ripping it out of it's wall socket in her haste to get out of there. 

Her eyes are not at all prepared for the sight that graces her. 

People in black robes storm the area, shooting spells at innocent civilians, who run for their lives. She barely has time to process anything, before Hermione is dragging her along by the wrist, her bushy hair flying out behind her. Maya's heart is _thundering_ inside her chest, as she starts running, a purple jet of light narrowly missing Ginny as she pulls her out of the way. 

She's had experience with combat before, about a year ago, when the Institute's wards failed to protect themselves from wraith demons. Maya can sometimes still hear the screams, the shouts of pure terror as a pair of razor-sharp demon wings pierced the tender skin of her arm. She remembers pulling Max with her, horrified as Nandini screamed at her to hide. Maya had locked the two of them in Alec's room, trying to calm the child down as to not alert the demons of their presence. 

She doesn't even have to look at their masks to know what these people are. 

Death Eaters. 

Maya doesn't even notice the fact that they've run into the forest until she hears an _oof!_ from the ground; she looks down and sees him sprawled out on the muddy earth. 

“Tripped over a tree root,” he says angrily, getting to his feet again.

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” replies a drawling voice from behind them.

Draco Malfoy is standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seems to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. A sick feeling goes through her stomach at the sight of him, looking as if he's _used to this,_ as if seeing wizards and witches die is what he watches on the after-school Disney Channel circuit. 

Ron tells Malfoy to do something that Maya knows would get her grounded if she ever dared repeat it in front of her mother. 

“Language, Weasley,” says Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like _her_ spotted, would you?”

His eyes flit to Hermione. 

And the implication in his voice is the last straw for Maya. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” replies Hermione defiantly.

“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” says Malfoy. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around . . . they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

“Hermione’s a witch,” Harry snarls.

“Have it your own way, Potter,” replies Malfoy, grinning maliciously. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.”

Maya resists the urge to slap his pretty face to Edom as she steps closer, folding her arms over her chest in an attempt to look threatening. 

"And what's your cowardly ass doing out here?" she spits, scathingly, "Waiting for Mummy and Dad to finish the job at the campsite so you can go home?"

Something flickers in his eyes, as he looks at her, and Maya gulps, finally noticing that he's a head taller than her in the moonlight. 

"Maya-" starts Ginny, alarmed, as the girl in question gives her a warning look. 

"Well, well, well" he drawls, stepping closer, "Look what we have here. A new addition to Potter's little gang-"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy" spits Harry, looking as though he would very well like to push him into the ground. 

"I suppose you're a filthy muggle lover then?" he questions, daring her to answer back, "Just like the rest of them?"

"What if I am?"

* * *

The tone of her voice is very, _very_ dangerous, a simmering cauldron waiting to boil over beneath the calm. Her eyes are filled with the scorching timbres of rage, full and clear in the dark, fierce sapphires that send a shudder down Draco's spine. There's a certain air about her, that hints there's more than meets the eye. 

For a moment, she seems not quite human.

He's misjudged her very, very badly, Draco thinks to himself. Sure, she doesn't look like a threat, incredibly petite, dressed anassumingly in a muggle shirt and jeans, hair falling in innocent waves down her back from a ponytail that's starting to fall out. She shouldn't intimidate him, shouldn't even be of notice, but somehow, she manages to do _anything but._

Whoever she is, Draco has a feeling that she could - _and would -_ kill him if she wanted to. 

He doesn't know what motivates the next few words to leave his mouth. 

"Then you better watch your back"

Her eyes harden at his words, instinctively reaching for what he thinks is her wand. However, the Weasley girl stops her, grabbing her by the arm, and muttering something in her ear. 

"Is that a threat?" she replies, raising an eyebrow, "Because if it is..... _you don't know who you're screwing with, **Malfoy"**_

"Maya, _come on!"_

She finally takes the hint, shooting him a venomous look as the girl runs after her friends. Draco watches her leave, his mouth set in a thin line as footsteps sound behind him. 

"She's cute" muses Diana, a thin smirk on her face as she leans against a nearby tree.

More like _scary as hell,_ he thinks to himself. 

Draco rolls his eyes, shooting her an incredulous look. 

"She's also a blood traitor" he reminds her, internally sighing as his younger sister rolls her eyes. 

"Come on, don't tell me that you believe all the crap that we're being fed" she replies

"It's the truth"

"Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?"

Draco ignores her, looking over his shoulder as he walks away. 

"C'mon. Mum and Dad are waiting at the gate"

His eyes catch sight of the new girl, her slender figure sillhouetted against the smoke that's starting to blanket the entire forest. They catch on something in her jacket - a shiny piece of metal with crystals on both ends, carved with runes that signify it to be one thing, _and one thing only._

A stele. 

Looks like _l_ _ittle miss spitfire_ has a secret. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: abuse [only briefly mentioned]

September 2014

* * *

**_NANDINI HAD ALMOST CRIED WHEN SHE SAW MAYA_** for the first time since the cup. 

Magnus had been there too, his anxious face morphing to one of immense relief as soon as he caught sight of her petite figure stumbling back to the house after a particularly tense car ride. Maya hadn't even questioned why he was there, knowing that Magnus was family at this point, considering that he had half-raised her when Nandini had been busy on missions. It's not that her mother was away all the time. After all, she didn't like the feeling of having her daughter being alone for so long - hence why she'd been very apprehensive about sending her to Hogwarts. 

And the incident at the Quidditch World Cup _definitely_ hadn't helped. 

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" questions Nandini, worriedly, a hand on Maya's shoulder as her daughter prepares to depart for the Hogwarts express. The train is standing there in all it's garangutan glory, thick ivory smoke billowing in heaps onto the platform. It irritates her lungs, Nandini having to spare a fit of coughing, for fear that the people around her will suspect that she's a chronic smoker - she does have one cigarette from time to time, but it's never enough to make her dependent on the nicotine or develop a chronic disease. 

At least, that's what she thinks. 

"It's not too late to pull you out of school, " she offers, as Maya sighs, "You could always go to Ilvermorny-"

"Mom, I'll be fine." replies Maya, softly, "Besides, I have friends here, people I know...."

Her words trail off, as she glances at the trio chattering about something a little further down the platform. Hermione's hair is as bushy as ever, matching Crookshanks's thick, spiky coat as her eyebrows are raised, clearly in the midst of an indignant monologue. Ron runs a frustrated hair through his violently ginger hair, shooting Maya an awkward look as Harry and Hermione's argument continues. Ginny gives her a sympathetic smile, sensing the American's nervousness at joining a boarding school for the first time. Maya returns it, turning back to her mother as Nandini's words continue. 

"Remember, if you need anything, I'm just one call away. You can also send a fire message, if you want, though I'd suggest you only use it for emergencies - lord knows we don't want an accident like _last time..."_

 _"Amma (1),_ it's been two years!"

"Yet Church still hasn't recovered from the disaster that ensued in Magnus's kitchen-"

"Fine, _fine,_ I'll stay out of trouble" mutters Maya, a little annoyed with her mother's overprotectiveness. She lets Nandini have it, though, knowing that it's just a front for her sadness for not seeing her daughter for the next nine months.

"And remember, _school comes first"_ adds Magnus, pointedly, "I know academics won't be a problem for you - considering you're way above this level - but keep in mind the real reason you're here."

"Yeah, _asian excellence_ won't always work for you"

Maya rolls her eyes playfully, crossing her arms over her chest as she checks the time on her watch. 

_10:55_

" _Shi-_ Crap, I'm so late!"

"Go!" replies Magnus, panicked, as Ginny grabs Maya's wrist with a pointed look, dragging her to the train at top speed. Maya waves to her mom and Magnus, her petite figure soon becoming obscured by the smoke. Magnus's cheery facade falls, as he turns to Nandini, the same grave, cutting expression on his face. 

"You're running out of time."

"Her birthday is in three months-"

" _We don't have that long._ For all we know, he could already have someone tailing her-"

"That's not true, the amulet would have showed us-"

"Maya needs to know the truth. She deserves to find out who her real father is-'

"The time isn't right-"

"It's been _thirteen years,_ Nandini. How long are you going to keep the truth from her?"

"I told you, I'm _figuring it out"_

"Tessa's worried. The signs already show that he's starting to resurface-"

"Maya is _safe_ at Hogwarts."

"We don't know how long that's going to last. And with Dumbledore's eccentricities....it's a grave mistake to send her off like this - _like a lamb to the slaughter"_

"She'll be fine. Maya has friends, people looking out for her. The professors know the truth - at least, Snape and Mcgonnagall. Nothing's going to happen to her-"

" _You have to tell her,_ Nandini. There's no getting around it. The question is, when?"

"Soon" replies Nandini, ominously, looking off into the distance. It feels like her heart has dropped into her stomach, the pits of dread increasing with each second the scarlet engine pulls away. She can see Maya inside, collapsing over in laughter to some joke one of the kids have said. 

Even though her daughter is happy, why does it feel like she's making a very, very big mistake?

* * *

“. . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore — the man’s such a Mudblood-lover — and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . .”

"Please don't tell me he's going to come barging in here again" mutters Maya, scowling at her notebook, "One time is too many"

Hermione gets up, tiptoes to the compartment door, and slides it shut, blocking out Malfoy’s voice.

 _Finally,_ thinks Maya to herself, scribbling out the rest of the verse that's come to her head. She does this a lot, write poetry. Not poetry, exactly, but rhyming couplets, clever little whims and snaggles that come to her mind at times.

“So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?” she says, angrily. “I wish he had gone, then we wouldn’t have to put up with him.”

“Durmstrang’s another wizarding school?” says Harry

“Yes,” says Hermione sniffily, “and it’s got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.”

"Ugh.." shudders Maya, disgusted, "What kind of school would even _allow_ that?"

“I think I’ve heard of it,” says Ron vaguely. “Where is it? What country?”

“Well, nobody knows, do they?” replies Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

“Wait, _what?_ “ whispers Maya, incredulous, eyes wide, stuffing her notebook in her bag as she leans closer.

"There’s traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets,” says Hermione, matter-offactly.

“Come off it,” says Ron, starting to laugh. “Durmstrang’s got to be about the same size as Hogwarts — how are you going to hide a great big castle?”

“But Hogwarts is hidden,” says Hermione, in surprise. “Everyone knows that . . . well, everyone who’s read Hogwarts, A History, anyway.”

“Just you, then,” says Harry. “So go on — how d’you hide a place like Hogwarts?”

“It’s bewitched,” replies Hermione, a tad miffed. “If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying danger, do not enter, unsafe.”

“So Durmstrang’ll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?” questions Maya, very much interested.

“Maybe,” says Hermione, shrugging, “or it might have Muggle repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they’ll have made it Unplottable —”

“Come again?”

“Well, you can enchant a building so it’s impossible to plot on a map, can’t you?”

“Er . . . if you say so,” says Harry, confused.

“But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north,” replies Hermione thoughtfully. “Somewhere very cold, because they’ve got fur capes as part of their uniforms.”

“Ah, think of the possibilities,” replies Ron dreamily. “It would’ve been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident. . . . Shame his mother likes him. . . .”

Maya chokes on her water, almost spitting it out as she laughs, the back of her hand placed over her mouth. 

"Bloody hell" she finally manages to say, leaning back in her seat, "You guys really are something, aren't you?"

The rain outside gets deeper as they move into the Scottish countryside, the landscape being so dark that the lanterns are lit by midday. Maya ends up dozing off half an hour later, head slumped against the window, the notebook still in her hand. She supposes that all the jet lag and stress has finally caught up to her, considering that she can't remember napping in the afternoon since she was a toddler. It works though, since she feels much more refreshed once she stirs, four hours later, to the soft sounds of conversation in the compartment. 

“Oh wow,” says Neville, enviously as Ron tips a figure of Krum onto his pudgy hand.

“We saw him right up close, as well,” he replies, proudly, “We were in the Top Box —”

“For the first and last time in your life, Weasley.”

Draco Malfoy appears in the doorway, his tall body leaning against the doorframe. Behind him stand two thuggish-looking boys, both as thick as tree-trunks and eyeing Maya in a calculated way that sends a repressed shudder down her spine. 

“Don’t remember asking you to join us, Malfoy,” replies Harry coolly.

“Weasley . . . what is that?” says Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon’s cage.

A sleeve of Ron’s dress robes is dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious. Ron tries to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy is too quick for him; he seizes the sleeve and pulls.

“Look at this!” says Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron’s robes and showing the two boys, “Weasley, you weren’t thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean — they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety. . . .”

"Oh, _burn in hell_ " snarls Maya, which just makes him laugh harder. 

"I see _you've_ decided to join Potter's little party-"

“Eat dung, Malfoy!” says Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatches them back out of Malfoy’s grip.

Malfoy howls with derisive laughter.

. “So . . . going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There’s money involved as well, you know . . . you’d be able to afford some decent robes if you won. . . .”

“What are you talking about?” snaps Ron.

“Are you going to enter?” Malfoy repeats

“I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?”

“Either explain what you’re on about or go away, Malfoy,” replies Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

A gleeful smile spreads across Malfoy’s pale face.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” he says, delightedly. “You’ve got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don’t even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago . . . heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father’s always associated with the top people at the Ministry. . . . Maybe your father’s too junior to know about it, Weasley . . . yes . . . they probably don’t talk about important stuff in front of him. . . .”

"Do you _ever_ stop talking?" snaps Maya, closing her book shut with a perfunctory snap. Malfoy's pale eyes flit to her, and for a moment, he looks threatened, but the glittering malice comes back as she stands up, in all her diminutive glory. 

"So you _are_ coming to Hogwarts this year"

"Is that a problem?"

" _Why_ have I _never_ heard of you before?..." mutters Draco, silently, racking his brain for any information about the girl in front of him. 

Maya sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as a few moments go by. 

"Take a picture, _Malfoy_ " she snaps, finally noticing his stare, "It'll last longer"

Suddenly, another girl pokes her head into compartment, hair identical to her brother's. 

"Hi" she says, softly, giving Maya a smile as she notices her, "Um, Draco, sorry to interrupt your little barbecue, but Pansy wants to talk to you."

"What does she want _now?"_ replies Draco, irritated.

"She needs to know what color tie you're wearing, so she can match it to her dress-"

"I already told her, I'm not going to the-"

He cuts himself off abruptly, realizing the presence of the lowly people around him. 

"Fine." he growls, running a hand through his perfectly gelled hair - _a trait no doubt picked up from his scheming liar of a father_ , Maya thinks to herself, viciously. She doesn't know why she hates him so much, with his rich-boy attitude, clear prejudice and bratty voice. He absolutely _infuriates_ her, and it is with great restraint that Maya forces herself to stop imagining the ten different ways she could stab him with her quill. 

"If you're done, the door is _that_ way" she snaps, gesturing to the sliding apparatus behind him.

Correction. _Eleven._

Draco rolls his eyes, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he glances at her one last time. 

"Scared?" he questions. 

Maya scoffs.

" _In your dreams_ " 

Draco Malfoy raises his eyebrows, before leaving, slamming the compartment door shut as his tall figure strides away from them.

"What an arse" mutters Neville, as Maya frowns, sitting back down. 

" _Understatement of the year"_

* * *

Diana Malfoy fidgets with her collar, smoothing the black fabric back as she adjusts her hairband for the millionth time. The Great Hall is bustling with chatter, all 10,000 students back for yet another year. Warm candlelight shimmers against the starlit sky above them, the fake ceiling incredibly realistic compared to the flimsy substitute back at Beauxbatons. 

She's starting to wish she'd holed back up in France. 

Sure, it wasn't exactly _her_ choice to come back to England - in fact, she rather enjoyed the freedom at Beauxbatons, away from the prying eyes and suffocating demeanor that comes with being part of the Malfoys. In those three years that she spent at the school, deep in the Pyrenees, Diana has changed - in ways that could be deemed unsatisfactory by the fragile hierarchy that deems the lives of those privileged and prosperous around her. She learned to think for herself, to disobey the _rules,_ to _breathe._ Of course, Diana hasn't mentioned a word of her previous activities to her family - she doubts her father would be pleased if he found out about her frequent trips to muggle Paris, roaming the city late at night whilst snacking on various flavored macarons. 

Shit, now she's _hungry._

Point being, Diana doesn't _want_ to be at Hogwarts with her older brother. But what Lucius Malfoy says is as good as law, and the last thing any of them want to do is go against his word. Draco learned that the hard way, after a red handprint made it’s way onto his cheek when he refused to put on his shoes at the age of four. She’s also been subject to the same fortune many times, and it took her three years and a talk with the school’s guidance counselor to figure out that what happened to both of them was _wrong._

 _Maybe that’s why Draco’s changed so drastically,_ she thinks to herself, glancing at her older brother at the Slytherin table. His face is rested in his palm, an undeniably bored expression on his face as the rest of his “friends” go chattering away. He’s become so cold, cruel, calculating in a way that unsettles her. Diana knows it’s just a defense mechanism, a mask that Draco puts on to hide his pain. She knows there has to be some crevice of him that resents their father, for what he’s done _\- doing -_ to their family. 

But the prospect seems less certain as the seconds go by. 

Diana looks to her left, eyes immediately landing on a certain dark-haired girl, apparently engrossed with something on her cell-phone ( _she learned that word from Lucille)._ She stands on her tip toes, waving the device up over her head. Diana supposes she’s trying to find a signal, making a mental note to inform her of the wards that mess with muggle devices such as these. She doesn’t persist, however, tucking the phone in a pocket of her robes with a scowl on her face. 

“The Astronomy Tower!”, Diana whispers in her direction, when no one’s looking their way. 

The girl blinks, leaning closer in confusion.

“What?”

“That’s the only place you can get a decent phone signal around here”

She looks miffed for a second, then breaks out into a nervous smile, enhancing the dimple in her left cheek. 

“Um….thanks, I guess”

Diana sighs, putting her hand on her head in utter embarrassment. 

_Sacre bleu (2),_ why does she always come off as a psychopath whenever she tries to introduce herself?

“Sorry, I didn’t get a proper chance to tell you during the world cup. I’m Diana, Diana Malfoy”

The girl gives her a perfunctory smile, one that truly does seem genuine as she shrugs, nonchalantly. 

“I’m Maya Rajesh.”

Diana sticks her hand out hesitantly, hoping Maya won’t leave her hanging. 

_“Welcome to Hogwarts, Maya”_

She takes it.

And for once, Diana can sigh in relief. 

At least she has _one_ friend around here.

* * *

“And now, for our first transfer student for this year, _Maya Rajesh!”_

The girl in question takes a few steps forward, silently praying that her feet support her on the seemingly endless journey to the sorting hat. She shakily takes a seat on the wooden stool, rocking precariously beneath her, wiping her sweaty palms on the black uniform skirt that suddenly seems a little too short. 

_“Mmm….another Desai-”_

Maya jumps, for a split second, not at all prepared for the low drawl of the sorting hat’s voice in her head. She hasn’t heard that name for nine years, long dormant since the untimely demise of her father. 

And she doesn’t like being referred to with it either. 

“ _But you’re not like the rest of them, are you now?”_ it muses, almost bored, “ _A thirst for knowledge, a rebellious streak, a tendency to be able to get what you want no matter the cost, you’d do very well in Slytherin my dear, very well indeed….”_

Maya glances at the table blanketed in emerald and silver. A familiar pair of grey eyes make her acquaintance, and she immediately looks away, instantly regretting her decision. 

_Oh hell no._

“Not Slytherin,”she whispers in desperation, “Anything but Slytherin, _please…”_

“ _Not Slytherin, eh? I suppose it isn’t that great of a choice either, what with your fiery temper, adventurous tendencies, you’d set the place on fire within a matter of seconds. Oh well. If it isn’t Slytherin, better be…...GRYFFINDOR!!”_

The table covered in red and gold cheers, as a blanket of relief closes over her. Maya’s shoulders drop in relief as she walks over to the table quickly, not wanting to draw more attention to herself than she already has. 

“Congrats!” states Fred, heartily, as the lapels on her robes change to scarlet, “I knew you were one of us from the start!”

“I actually pictured you as more of a Ravenclaw” states Ginny, placing a french fry into her mouth, the end lathered with ketchup. Hermione shoots her a look, at what she thinks offends Maya, but in reality, she isn’t bothered in the slightest.

Although you never really know with her. Some days, it takes just a simple comment to set her off. Others, the whole world could burn to the ground and she couldn’t care less. It’s not that she’s oblivious, well, to most things. It’s that Maya’s used to harsh criticism from her peers, considering what goes on behind her mother’s back at the Institute. 

That’s the only reason she’s ever considered leaving New York.

“I did too” she confesses, spooning some pasta onto her plate. It’s pretty good, for school food, she thinks, taking a tentative bite. But there’s nothing like her mother’s lasagna at home

“And now, for our second transfer student….. _Diana Malfoy!_ ”

* * *

Diana sits on the stool with her head high, shoulders square. Her face is a mask of entitlement, icy confidence that she hopes doesn’t give away the fact that her legs have turned into a quivering pile of _girl-jello._

“ _Another Malfoy, hmm….”_ drawls the sorting hat, “ _I had the pleasure of sorting your brother three fine years ago - bit nasty he is, yeah. But - oh, wait, what do we have here? Lots of hope in that fine head of yours, a hardworking nature, a thirst to prove yourself, fierce loyalty to your loved ones. You feel conflicted, your thoughts differ from that of your family. The path you choose now will determine the outcome for the rest of your life. Good god, you’re very complicated, hmm…..”_

Draco’s eyes are trained on her, his expressionless face nothing but a mask for the storm of anxiety swirling around in the pit of his stomach. The siblings share a tense look. 

The sorting shouldn’t be taking _this_ long. 

_Slytherin_ prays Diana, in her head, _It has to be Slytherin, come on…._

Both of them know what’s going to happen if it isn’t. 

“ _Very well, Miss Malfoy..”_ states the hat, “ _It seems you’ve made your choice-”_

 _Finally..._ Diana thinks to herself, in sheer relief. 

There are no discrepancies. She’ll get sorted into Slytherin, just like everyone else. Everything will be alright, more than alright, in fact. Who knows, maybe she’ll carve the same path to greatness as her grandfather-

_“Let it be……….HUFFLEPUFF!!”_

Her jaw promptly hits the floor. 

The great hall lapses into pin-drop silence, all eyes suddenly flitting to her. It feels like her heart has stopped, suddenly free from it’s delirious rapture of pumping the blood through her body. 

The centuries of blood that she’s gone against. 

The sorting hat’s verdict has been set.

A Malfoy - a bonafide, in-the-flesh MALFOY _-_ has been placed into _hufflepuff._

Professor Sprout catches her by the wrist, pulling her away from the stool. Whispers break out in the hall, some of them reaching her ears. Diana doesn’t even look at her brother, already picturing the horrified expression that graces his face. 

“Professor, there has to be some sort of mistake-” she tries, in desperation, “I mean, I can’t be in _hufflepuff,_ it’s just not possible!-”

“The sorting hat tells no lies, Ms. Malfoy,” replies Sprout, a grave expression on her face, “Whatever it means, you were sent here for a reason. I’ll owl your father in the morning to let him know-”

“But-”

“Enjoy the feast. You’ll need your energy tomorrow”

Diana slumps in her seat, hunching over in a way that would horrify her mother. Her head is in her hands, ignoring most of the whispers that pass over her. She blinks the tears from her eyes, willing herself not to lose control just yet. 

She’s done for. 

Diana’s failed everyone - her parents, her brother, her “ _friends”_. There’s no going back now, not when something like _this_ has happened. Diana watches the lapels of her robes turn yellow, a color she’s always found loathsome, too cheery and bright to exist. Her world has come halting to a stop. 

And there’s no one to blame but her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Amma - Tamil for mom
> 
> (2) Sacre Bleu - expletive, French


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: death, anxiety and a little bit of blood + hints of emotional abuse. this chapter delves into what really happened the night arjun died in the form of a nightmare + maya's trauma, so proceed with caution.

January 2005

* * *

**_ARJUN CAN BARELY SEE THE ROAD_ ** _ahead of him._

_The fog is stagnant, unnaturally thick, and white in the way that it covers the path. The smell of Chinese takeout wafts toward his nose, enticing an angry growl from his stomach, which hasn't eaten anything since an incredibly unsatisfying lunch. It's_ **_that_ ** _time of the month for his wife, the time where everything and anything irritates her._

_She may be a foot shorter than him, but she's terrifying when she wants to be._

_To "appease the beast", as Arjun would normally put it, he's bringing over some takeout from their favorite Chinese place. Moo-shu pork and fried rice for him, stir-fried tofu and pineapple fried rice for his wife, and bao buns - four filled with stir-fried tofu and vegetables, two filled with custard, for Maya, who is also vegetarian, like her mother._

_He hasn't seen much of his family of late - the Auror office has been keeping him busy in that regard. Voldemort’s men are rising up in large numbers, determined to avenge their fallen leader in a way unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It’s almost like they’re waiting for him to come back, even though it’s very clear that he’s gone….right?_

_The Shadow World isn’t all that quiet either. Nandini’s expression of late has been grave, tense, like she’s bound to break any second. He knows that she’s still in contact with Maryse Lightwood, and therefore, is informed of the sudden hub of activity in New York. Previously dormant areas are now filled with vampire haunts, seelie drug clubs and god knows how many more dens of iniquity. It makes him nervous, this sudden rise in danger, afraid for more to come._

_He tries not to think about the fact that his wife and daughter are alone at home._

_What does it mean, all of these signs? The Order hasn’t found anything yet - they’ve been so useless lately that he wonders why he even joined in the first place. Something dark is starting to brew around them - that much he knows._

_And Arjun can’t help but wonder if it’s centered around the three of them._

_A figure suddenly darts in front of his car, forcing him to make an abrupt stop. He’s thrown forward in his seat, immediately hissing as his head smacks against the dashboard._

_“Who the frick-”_

**_You can say “fuck”, Maya isn’t here,_ ** _his brain reminds him, but he ignores it._

_Arjun’s head snaps back up, face twisted into one of pure irritation, a bruise already starting to form on the place where he hit his head._

_Oh come on._

_“Bloody hell, are you blind-”_

_There’s no one in front of him._

_Fear suddenly takes over Arjun’s body, as the same blur runs across the road one more time, too fast to give him a clear image. His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel, heart thundering in his chest._

_At last, they’ve cornered him._

_He doesn’t see the headlights of the truck until it’s too late._

* * *

October 2014

**_SHE WAKES UP AS SOON AS THE CAR HITS THE TREE._ **

Maya bolts upright in bed, her head slamming against the headboard with unintended force. She immediately hisses, body curling into an almost-fetal position. 

Only then does she realize that she’s about to cry. 

She’s no stranger to nightmares - for most of her early childhood, they were present on an almost-daily basis. But as Maya got older, they began to become less frequent, less _intense._ She hasn’t had a dream like this in over two years. 

Especially one about an accident _she didn’t even witness._

“Maya?” questions a groggy voice, to her left, “You alright?”

Maya’s head snaps to the other girl’s direction, pulling the covers off of herself as she leans against the headboard. Diana’s blonde hair is messed up, yawning as she runs a sleepy hand through it. Hermione’s also just starting to stir, but thinks the better of it as the soft words leave her lips. 

“I-I’m fine, “ she replies, quietly,”Just a bad dream?”

“Are you sure?” replies Hermione, sleepily propping up her face in her hand. Her copper-colored curls have fallen out of her bun, framing her face in a haphazard - yet, appealing manner, “You look very pale”

“It’s okay. I just…...I think I’ll take a walk, or something”

“It’s three in the morning” reminds Diana, looking at her strangely. 

“I’ll be quiet, I promise, I just….need some air”

“Avoid the Great Hall and Courtyards - that’s where Filch patrols the most” Hermione states, sinking back into the crimson sheets, “And take your wand with you for good measure, you don’t know who could be out this time of night-”

Maya indirectly picks up on what she means, but doesn’t want to say in front of Diana. 

_Malfoy._

The thought of running into him in the middle of the night is about as pleasant as swallowing a porcupine. It’s enough to make her stop in her tracks, but she doesn’t. 

One way or another, she has to get this out of her system. 

And Maya knows exactly what she’s going to do. 

* * *

Draco can’t sleep. 

He doesn’t know why - maybe it’s the test on Astronomy he has tomorrow, or the fact that he’s drunk _way_ too much coffee for anyone’s liking. Maybe it’s Pansy sending suggestive glances his way to come spend the night at her dormitory, or Blaise spouting crap about his mother’s new husband, but yet again, his thoughts are too loud for him, swirling around his head in an indiscernible tornado of voices. 

His father’s voice has been the most predominant of late. 

Diana being sorted into _Hufflepuff_ is a complete nightmare for her older brother. Sure, she’s always been a little different from the rest of his family, considering she’s been at Beauxbatons for the past three years, and yeah, her views on mudbloods _(normal humans_ , as she calls them) are more than liberal. But he was absolutely sure that she’s exactly like him - determined, ambitious, willing to use all means at her disposal to exact revenge. 

Is this really the same girl who broke his toy broomstick after he accidentally knocked over her dollhouse?

And blamed it on one of the elves?

Now, however, Draco’s initial bewilderment has morphed into a deep-rooted fear. It’s times like this where he wishes that he was able to do _more_ , more than just sitting here and letting Diana take the fall. Even though he can’t stand the sight of those Hufflepuffs in their canary yellow uniforms, she couldn’t exactly _control_ being sorted into the wrong house, could she? And what, with their dormitories being completely full, it makes it even worse for Diana to be forced to stay with the Gryffindors. 

  
  


Bloody hell, is he actually _pitying_ her?

Just as he predicted, an ornate door appears on the wall, almost as if out of thin air. He’s been to this place a few times before - the come-and-go room is what they call it - on nights like this, where his mind is racing too fast for his body to keep up. Draco doubts anyone in his year knows where exactly it is, considering the place to be nothing more than an urban legend. 

He opens the door. 

Instead of a tub filled with bubbles, as he had desired, the room is dark, only lit by the stars glittering in the night sky outside. Cushions lay scattered about the room, as if someone has thrown them haphazardly. He spots a metal object lying on the table, realizing that, on closer inspection, it’s the same stele he saw at the Quidditch world cup. 

A stele that now belongs to a certain Gryffindor. 

No. Absolutely not. 

There’s no way she’s _here,_ in the middle of the night, when everyone with common sense is asleep. In fact, there is _absolutely_ no chance that he’ll run into her. After all, she’s probably not even in the room, considering that he can’t even see her-

Oh. My. Merlin. 

Draco scrambles to hide behind a shelf, quickly shielding his body as footsteps make their way from a corner of the room. His eyes flit to the figure on the other side, not daring - _or wanting -_ to believe what he’s seeing. 

Maya Rajesh has her back to him, clad in an old, faded t-shirt and a pair of patterned pajama pants that look as though they belong in the 1980s. Her hair is the darkest color he’s ever seen - so black that it shimmers with blue - almost unnatural in it’s sheer intensity. In fact, a lot of the details about her appearance seem eerie….almost like they aren’t there in the first place. 

She seems very concentrated on something, hands firmly by her side, back straight, completely still. He wishes he was close enough to hear what she’s whispering underneath her breath, the words completely indiscernible from the distance he’s standing at. 

Draco is completely unprepared for what happens next. 

Without warning, her silhouette starts to _warp -_ he can’t find any other way to describe it. It’s as if someone has thrown a stone into a pond, the ripples scattering throughout her body. Her skin becomes translucent, then a coffee color. She shoots up in height, hair becoming shorter until it’s at her shoulders. Her legs lengthen and as she turns around, he can see that her eyes are now green. There are black markings covering her exposed skin, and as the moonlight hits them, he realizes, with horror, that they’re actually _runes,_ angelic markings used to power beings known as Shadowhunters, the likes of which he’s never seen before. 

Who the hell is this girl?

And why is she at _Hogwarts?_  
  


In a millisecond, their eyes meet.

Maya Rajesh reaches for her wand, at the same time as him, immediately straightening up. Draco’s stare is challenging, wand pointed at her neck, hers at his chest. He should be scared of her - _he realizes, with a bit of pride -_ this strange new girl with powers that he didn’t even know existed. 

“Care to explain why you’re stalking me?” she hisses, through gritted teeth. Her accent annoys him to no end, as Draco steps a few feet closer to her. These bloody Americans - _he thinks to himself -_ so dumb, always too wrapped up in their own little worlds to realize what’s going on around them. 

“If you’d cared to look behind you, you would have noticed that I was here _first”_

_Liar, liar,_ taunts his mind. 

“Get out”

“ _No”_

“Leave, or else….”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders, are you, _Rajesh?”_

She freezes for a millisecond, the color draining from her face as she realizes what he’s witnessed. 

Draco smirks.

  
“I knew there was something _off_ from the start. Explain, will you? You’re clearly not human…….. _so what the hell are you?”_


	5. Chapter 5

October 2014

* * *

**_THERE IS PIN-DROP SILENCE,_** as she glares at him, the ferocity smoldering in her dark indigo eyes. 

"I don't owe you anything" she spits, quite venomously for someone stuck in her predicament. 

Draco doesn't know what pushed him to spill the words that left his lips just moments prior. It feels like something is clawing at his insides, an acrid poison spewing flames inside his lungs. 

Or maybe, that’s just how he _wants_ to describe it.

In reality, he’s intrigued, confused, almost, by this strange, quiet girl who’s mysteriously joined Hogwarts this year. Lucius himself had a grave look on his face after the Quidditch world cup, when Draco mentioned to him the incident of their unfortunate encounter. 

“ _That girl is trouble”_ he’d replied, drowsy over a glass of firewhiskey, “ _The kind of trouble that’s caught the attention of the Dark Lord. You’d do best to keep an eye on her, boy. Wouldn’t want **him** to be displeased, would you?”_

Of course, he’d been sort of amused at first. All sarcasm and fieriness aside, Maya Rajesh doesn’t even come up to his shoulder, her attempt at anger reminding him of a disgruntled pomeranian. Really? This pint-sized firecracker is _trouble_ according to the Dark Lord? The worst thing she could do was stab someone with a toothpick. 

Well, that was before he found out that she’s an actual freak of nature. 

Draco finally finds words again, as she turns to leave. 

“Diana is one of your roommates, am I correct?”

She freezes. 

“What about it?” 

Draco sighs, running a hand through his hair as vague sentences start to form in his mind. 

Is he really contemplating asking _Maya Rajesh_ for a favor?

“Being a….. _Malfoy…..._ the other kids are bound to pick on her for being a Hufflepuff. And though she may not act like it, it _will_ hurt a lot…”

“And your point is?...”

“If I do anything to stop them, it’ll screw things up for both of us. And I doubt my friends are dumb enough to help her either….”

* * *

Maya knows exactly where this is going. 

And the last thing she wants to do at _three in the morning_ is agree to a sordid favor for this albino rich boy in front of her. 

But she can see it in his eyes, he truly does care about his sister. The way he talked about her just now, his tone was desperate, pleading, like he wants to protect her. He’s a coward, obviously, but maybe…. _maybe_ he’s a little less cruel than he seems to be.

Towards his family, at least.

“And what exactly do _I_ have to do with this?”

Malfoy looks at her incredulously.

“Look out for her, make sure she doesn’t get hurt…….and maybe I’ll make sure the whole school doesn’t find out about your little secret”

Maya narrows her eyes at him. For some reason, she feels that the deal is a little too good to be true, that there’s an underlying sense of deceit in his tone. She can once remember Arjun telling her to never trust a snake, that they’ll strike once your back is turned. And this boy in front of her is the shrewdest of the pack, eyes glinting with a mischieviousness that unsettles her.

“And…..why should I trust you?”

He smirks.

“You shouldn’t. In fact, I’d probably advise against it for the near future. But I don’t think you have another choice, do you?”

“You’re insane, Malfoy. I barely know you – _and_ _I don’t want to either_ ”

“Which is what makes this so much easier” he replies, with a shit-eating grin on his face that makes it twice as hard for Maya to resist the urge to slap it off of his face.

, “You don’t like me. I don’t like you. If you say yes, this will be the last time I ever bring it up…..that is, of course, if you keep up our agreement”

Maya sighs, closing her eyes. She pinches the bridge of her nose with a mixture of annoyance & frustration, silently regretting ever getting out of bed in the first place.

But there’s a part of her that pities him, feels a little bad for his sister. Maya knows what it feels like to not belong – hell, she’s contemplated it all her life. There’s constant derision directed at her and her mother at the Institute – Shadowhunters who can’t seem to accept the fact that Nandini _broke the rules_ so Maya could exist. She’s been called horrific names by everyone – little kids, teenagers, even _adults._ Freak, outcast, _abomination –_ that seems to be a favorite among them – the Lightwoods have been the only people who have ever treated her as _human._

And she’ll be damned if she lets an innocent girl go through what makes her feel like she’s never good enough.

So it’s definitely a surprise to her rational mind when a reluctant _“fine”_ slips it’s way out of her lips. 

When they both leave, after a few minutes, Maya can't help but glance back at Draco Malfoy's retreating figure. The sight of him brings confusing emotions to her, but her main frustration is the fact of how easily he gets under her skin. 

And she won't award that privilege to just _anybody._

* * *

The next week passes by quickly, classes and translating phrases to the international students taking up most of her time. Looking at the Beauxbatons students, Maya wonders what her life would've been like if she had chosen to study in France, with their romantic language, silky, pale blue uniform, skiing in the alps. 

She'd probably break her neck by the second week. 

However, now, as the golden plates return to their original spotless state, her thoughts have no time to wander. There's a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which dies away almost instantly as Dumbledore gets to his feet. It's Saturday, _the_ Saturday, the day the champions for the Triwizard tournament are selected.

Maya didn't know what to make of it at first, during the long speech Dumbledore gave at the beginning of the year. The prize is one thousand galleons, which, in America, would amount to _two hundred and fifty thousand dollars._

 _You could make a down payment on a house with that much cash_ thinks Maya to herself, awed. 

In all honesty, though, it does sound pretty interesting. Three champions, three schools, three tasks and a hefty prize to the one who wins, she wonders what exactly those tasks entail. The one thing that she _does_ know is that one of them involves dragons, considering that the trio came back with smoking clothes a few days ago. 

She's suddenly glad that the tournament doesn't allow anyone under seventeen to enter.

On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime look as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman is beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looks quite uninterested, almost bored.

Almost like there's something _off_ about him.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” says Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber” — he indicates the door behind the staff table — “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He takes out his wand and gives a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins are extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness, similar to the quiet moments before a movie begins at the theaters. The Goblet of Fire now shines more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

Maya is relieved that she doesn't need glasses, otherwise her eyes would be fried by now

Everyone watches, waiting. . . . A few people keep checking their watches. . . .

“Any second,” Lee Jordan whispers, four seats away from her. 

The flames inside the goblet suddenly turns red again. Sparks begin to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shoots into the air, a charred piece of parchment flutters out of it — the whole room gasps. 

Dumbledore catches the piece of parchment and holds it at arm’s length, so that he can read it by the light of the flames, which have turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he reads, in a strong, clear voice, “will be _Viktor Krum_!.”

“No surprises there!” yells Ron as a storm of applause and cheering sweeps the Hall. Viktor Krum rises from the Slytherin table and slouches up toward Dumbledore; he turns right, walks along the staff table, and disappears through the door into the next chamber.

“Bravo, Viktor!” booms Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone can hear him, even over all the applause. “Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting dies down. Now everyone’s attentionis focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turns red once more. A second piece of parchment shoots out of it, propelled by the flames.

“The champion for Beauxbatons,” says Dumbledore, “is Fleur Delacour!”

“It’s her, Ron!” Harry shouts as the girl who so resembles a veela gets gracefully to her feet, shakes back her sheets of silvery blonde hair, and sweeps up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Even _Maya_ is dumbfounded by her beauty, more radiant than Raziel himself, catching the eye of all the boys - _and a few girls -_ around her. 

If she wasn't straight......... _somewhat_ , she'd be head over heels for Miss Delcaour right now. 

“Oh look, they’re all disappointed,” Hermione says over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

 _“Disappointed” is a bit of an understatement_ , Maya thinks. Two of the girls who were not selected have dissolved into tears and are sobbing with their heads on their arms. When Fleur Delacour too has vanished into the side chamber, silence falls again, but this time it is a silence so stiff with excitement you can almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next . . .

The Goblet of Fire turns red once more; sparks shower out of it; the tongues of flame shoot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulls the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he calls, “is Cedric Diggory!”

“No!” says Ron loudly, but nobody hears him except Maya; the uproar from the next table is too great. Every single Hufflepuff has jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric makes his way past them, grinning broadly, and heads off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Maya gives him an approving smile, and he returns it, though a little nervously. 

She hopes he knows what he's gotten himself into.

Indeed, the applause for Cedric goes on so long, that it is some time before Dumbledore can make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore calls happily as at last the tumult dies down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —”

But Dumbledore suddenly stops speaking, and it is apparent to everybody what has distracted him

The fire in the goblet has just turned red again. Sparks are flying out of it. A long flame shoots suddenly into the air, and borne upon it is another piece of parchment. Automatically, it seems, Dumbledore reaches out a long hand and seizes the parchment. He holds it out and stares at the name written upon it.

Maya's heart suddenly drops into her stomach, a strange lurch jerking her body slightly to the side. Diana's eyes meet hers, full of fear and confusion. _A fourth champion?_ There is no _way_ this is possible. After all, the tournament only accomodates three, unless Ilvermorny has decided to make a sudden surprise appearance-

There is a long pause, during which Dumbledore stares at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stares at Dumbledore. And then, at long last, Dumbledore cleares his throat and reads out —

_“Harry Potter.”_

Maya chokes on her pumpkin juice. 


	6. Chapter 6

October 2014

* * *

**_HARRY? HARRY POTTER?_ ** _No, that can't be right._

At least, that was what she thought at first. 

How - how could his name have even ended up inside the cup? Did he enter, somehow? No, he can't, considering what happened to Fred and George after they tried to cross the age line. An older student could have also done it, wait no, that wasn't possible. You could only put in your own name...........right?

These are the thoughts going through her head as she walks to her next divination lesson......or at least, tries to. All the corridors are starting to look indiscernible from each other, feeling like she's walking through a maze instead of just going to class like a normal person. 

Maya nervously fingers the thin [chain](https://i.postimg.cc/139nMPwv/94347c1f1ab1c1659c75468d8648160a.jpg) that hangs around her neck, a gift of sorts given to her by Nandini just before she left. A small, heart-shaped locket of gold, imbued with angel blood that supposedly "protects her", from who or what neither Magnus or her mother specified. She's been instructed to _never_ take it off, no matter the circumstances, otherwise.......well, none of them went into further detail. 

Their secrecy confuses her to no end. As far as Maya can tell, she's _nobody_ in the Shadow or Wizarding world. Not many people even _know_ of her existence, the few that do choosing to either ignore or treat her like any normal person. But both of her parents - well, one parent and a very concerned uncle - are acting like someone is _after her,_ trying to hurt her. Like she's an eighty-year-old mafia boss with too many enemies to count. 

What exactly are they hiding? 

"Ow!"

Maya falls back on the ground, her materials spilling out of her black bag and scattering out onto the stone. She hisses at the sheer force of the impact, as a pale hand extends toward her. 

"Sorry, erm - do you need any help?"

Cedric Diggory helps her to her feet, Maya shooting him a grateful look. She flicks her wand in a sweeping motion, the textbooks and quills levitating for a brief second before dropping neatly into her bag. 

"I'm fine, thank you" she replies, politely, "I really should've watched where I was going-"

"It's not your fault, accidents happen" he replies, with a friendly smile, which then turns into a frown, "Not to be rude, but aren't you - um - supposed to be in class right now?"

"About that..." replies Maya, with a nervous laugh, "I....don't exactly know where the Divination classroom is"

Cedric chuckles, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Oh, you're new here, I forgot" he laughs, "Um, just go all the way down the corridor over there - " he points to her left " - and take a right turn. The spiral staircase is what will take you to the classroom"

"Oh, um, thanks!" Maya replies, with a smile. 

"Also" he adds, as she leaves, "Don't believe all of Professor Trelawney's bullshit. Every year, she likes to scare us by _"predicting"_ that one student will die before the year ends-"

" _What?!"_ sputters out Maya, stupefied. 

"Don't question it. Last year it was me who she picked, and I still exist, so...."

"That's quite an _interesting_ way to teach.."

"Luckily, I dropped Divination in fifth year," adds Cedric, a tinge of relief in his tone, "But it was quite an experience, to say the least. Just be careful with what you say to her. She tends to change her predictions to ghastly deaths if you piss her off

"Good to know" replies Maya, warily, now regretting ever taking Divination. 

This is _not_ _at all_ what she signed up for. 

* * *

The classroom is still absent of their professor when Maya gets there. The curtains are all closed; the circular room is bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which are all draped with scarves and shawls. She sits down between two Gryffindor girls, which she vaguely remembers Hermione pointing her out to on the first day; Parvati Patel, with a penchant for gossip and a sleek black plait falling down her left shoulder, and Lavender Brown, with curly brown hair and an almost over-enthusiastic demeanor.

They give her a perfunctory nod, as she sits down, going back to what she now hears as the rumors of a student-teacher affair. Maya isn't offended by their lack of attention - in fact, she prefers it. It's a relief not to have a pair of eyes watching her every move. Waiting for her to fail. 

"Good afternoon, my children"

Professor Trelawney's lilting voice wavers around the room, the chatter ceasing as soon as everyone catches sight of her, swathed in numerous gauzy shawls and beaded, gaudy necklaces. She reminds Maya of an oversized beetle, dark eyes magnified by huge, wire-rimmed spectacles. 

"I apologize for my late arrival, the inner eye has been troubling me of late. Nevertheless, let us commence the lesson. We will continue with the study of our birth charts. Please open your books to page 79-"

Divination, as Maya soon learns, is a very arcane subject. Her head spins while trying to decipher the star chart that's laid out in front of her, numerous indecipherable symbols and markings laid about the piece of navy-blue paper. Parvati and Lavender gloss over theirs with a keen eye, sighing and fretting at the omens that don't suit them. Trelawney makes rounds about the room, occasionally dropping in to check on a student's chart with a disapproving tut. 

"My dear..." she stops, suddenly, at their table, looking directly at Maya "Hand me your birth chart for a second..."

Maya does as she instructs, flushing with embarrassment at how many spelling mistakes she's made when trying to fill it out to the best of her ability. Trelawney mutters something to herself, eyebrows raising once, twice as she looks it over, at one point, a gasp even escaping her lips at one point. She eventually hands it back to Maya with a grave look on her face, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. 

"It seems that your inner eye is fogged over today, young lady," she recites, ominously, "That's the only way what I foresaw on your chart would make any sense......"

She trails off, looking out of the window as Parvati shoots Maya a questioning look. She shrugs, not having a clue about the meaning of anything that's coming out of Trelawney's mouth. 

"Stay after class, will you?" orders Professor Trelawney, swallowing nervously, "There are some urgent matters we need to discuss..."

Lavender gasps as soon as she walks away, snatching Maya's chart out of her hand before she can even protest. 

"Sweet Merlin!" exclaims Parvati, as her dark-brown eyes fill with shock, "I can't believe it!"

"What? What's wrong?" questions Maya, starting to feel a little panicked. 

"Your chart...."

"What about my chart?"

"H-half of it is filled with death omens!!"

"Oh come off of it, Lavender" exclaims Hannah Abbott, sitting at the table next to them, "That can't be true. Besides, we all know that Trelawney's rubbish at predictions anyway-"

"That's not true!" insists Parvati, eyes wide, "Last year, she predicted that my bunny rabbit would die, and it did!-"

"That was a freak accident, come on!" insists Susan Bones, rolling her eyes. 

Parvati and Lavender both huff, turning back to face Maya, who has a lightly amused look on her face, not believing a word of this _death omen_ rubbish. People like Trelawney are looked down upon in the warlock community, perceived as being money-hungry, and their predictions are usually very, very inaccurate. 

"It's just a foretelling, I don't know why you're taking it so seriously-"

"Divination is _serious business,_ Maya" interjects Parvati, looking very concerned, "You should never let these things slide, especially in your case..."

Her and Lavender share a look, lapsing off into chatter as Maya sighs, placing her chin in the palm of her hand. Part of her brushes off the predictions, years of advice and nonchalance backing up the fact that she shouldn't let it get to her head. After all, nothing on paper proves that they are correct, that something actually _is_ going to happen to her. 

But that doesn't explain why Nandini and Magnus are acting the way they are. A special necklace, constant warnings, clear hesitation, it's almost like they _knew_ about these predictions. That bad things are going to happen to her very soon. 

Is that why they sent her to Hogwarts, so they could keep her out of danger?

But what danger could she possibly be in?

Class soon wraps up, everyone else trudging outside to the crisp evening ahead of them. Maya slings her back back over her shoulder, reluctantly walking over to Trelawney's desk to see what the Professor has in store for her. 

"Sage leaf tea often helps clear the mind," explains the older woman, pouring out a cup for Maya. Her face is one of agitation, the contents of Maya's birth chart deeply disturbing her, "People like you, Ms. Rajesh, often have trouble discerning their worries from their visions."

Maya nods, not really knowing the point of this conversation. The last thing she wants to spend her Thursday evening doing is being stuck in a boring conversation with her _divination teacher,_ who seems to have a penchant for death predictions. 

"Professor, you said you wanted to talk to me about my birth chart?" she questions, wanting to get straight to the point. 

"Ah, yes" interjects Trelawney, evidently remembering the cause of this little encounter, "What I saw was very.... _grim."_

"What do you mean?"

Something suddenly changes, in Professor Trelawney's demeanour. Her back (which is facing Maya), become almost rigidly straight, hands themselves starting to tremble. 

Trelawney suddenly turns around, eyes rolled back in her head as the sage-leaf tea crashes to the floor in a steaming puddle. Her movements seem as though they're being controlled by someone else, rigid, jerky, and as Maya backs away, almost stumbling into a velvet pouffe, a sound somewhere between a growl and a gasp leaves her lips.

"P-professor?"

" _Dark times are coming for you, Maya Rajesh"_ she hisses, voice sounding guttural, unnatural, nothing like her usual lofty tones, " _The now whom you have not yet seen will soon rise, and your happiness will fall along with it. Three of those you care about the most will perish, one by one-"_

"Professor, what are you talking about?" exclaims Maya, voice almost hysterical with fear. 

_"Do not trust anyone except those pure of heart around you, for in time, they will be the traitors who feed you to the demons. Soon, you will be forced to make a choice, between what is right, and what you desire. Choose wisely.......for you will never be able to turn back"_

Maya's heart is pounding in her chest, almost running backwards as she bumps into the door. She fumbles with the latch, finally pushing open the door and running outside, ignoring the looks she gets as Trelawney's voice calls after her. 

"Wait, dear, don't you want to talk about your birth chart?"

She doesn't stick around to find out. 

* * *

_Maya,_

_Things haven't been the same without you back here in New York. Raj is an asshole, as usual. Jace crashed the car into a pole - don't ask me why....or even how that happened. Anyway, Mom gave him an earful, and blamed me for even letting him drive underage in the first place._

_Alec misses you the most out of all of us, even though he won't admit it. He's been getting the most dangerous missions lately, which reminds me. Demon attacks have been on the rise ever since you left. Eleven mundanes have died. The clave is trying to tie them to the warlock rebellion in France, but we all know how that's going to go._

_I hope you're ~~not~~_ _wreaking havoc at Hogwarts. From what I heard, there's some sort of tournament this year between three schools. What's the deal with the fourth champion? Did Harry Potter actually enter underage? Jace reckons that you'd be one of the people to try and enter underage, but we both know you're not that stupid._

_Have you made any new friends? Or gotten it on with any hot British wizards? Alec thinks the last thing you'd do is date.....but come on. A new school, a fresh start, a place where no one knows who you are. I know there has to be at least **one** guy on your mind.....unless it's a professor. EW. I want to hear **EVERYTHING** when you get back for winter break, do you hear me?_

_Anyway, I'm sorry this is so short. We both know I'm shitty at writing letters. Seriously, why can't they make the castle cellphone-friendly? Stay safe, stay out of trouble and don't lose your sparkle._

_\- xx, Izzy_

Maya manages a small smile at the letter, a swoop of relief going through her chest at the fact that her best friend hasn't forgotten about her. It doesn't undo the knot in her stomach, tangled with the fear of whatever it was that happened to Professor Trelawney just a mere three hours ago. 

_"Three of those you care about the most will perish, one by one..."_

Out of sheer horror, three names pop into her head. 

_Alec. Isabelle. Jace._

No. 

Absolutely not.

Unless...

There's no way Trelawney could have actually predicted what's in store for her. True seers are very, very rare, the last known one being over a century ago. Besides, everyone says she's a load of tosh. Nothing will ever come true.....right?

One thing is for sure. In terms of her goals for this school year, death predictions definitely weren't on the list.


	7. Chapter 7

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒

* * *

_**THE LAST PLACE DRACO MALFOY EXPECTS**_ to find Maya Rajesh is at the Owlery. 

Her sillhouette is the only thing visible in the semidarkness, the soft scratching of a quill indicating her purpose here. _He seems to have a bad habit of running into her,_ Draco thinks to himself, chills running up his spine at the words that leave her lips next. 

"If you're going to stalk me, at least learn to do it right" 

He raises an eyebrow, swallowing the fear in his throat as he takes a few steps forward. 

"First of all, I'm not stalking you-"

" _Sure._."

"I just happened to be here to send off a letter. What are you doing here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Her snark cuts deep, for some reason. Draco is suddenly angry at her. How do people tolerate Maya Rajesh, someone so petulant and disarming? He doubts he's seen her smile once in the short weeks that school has commenced. She always hangs around Granger and Potter, probably planning world domination along with them. 

Draco really wouldn't put _anything_ past her. 

Then he remembers their agreement, and all venomous thoughts fall away. 

"How's Diana?" he questions, as she sighs, turning around to face him, "Or have you forgotten about our deal already?"

" _You know what?_ How about you go ahead and shove it up your-"

"Is everything that comes out of your mouth poisonous, or are you just like that with me?"

"What do you think?"

Draco sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep his temper.

"You still haven't answered my question yet"

She fiddles with the hem of her crimson sweater, black skirt swaying in the breeze that ruffles his hair. 

"If you _must_ know, she's fine. The Hufflepuffs mostly just ignore her, though some of them have made an effort to be civil. Diana gets through her classes well. She's a lot better at Arithmancy than I will ever be -"

"And you're not mistreating her?"

She looks very shocked, for a second, expression morphing into one of disgust.

"Do you really think that low of me?"

"I'm not going to answer that"

She rolls her eyes, grip loosening against the railing behind her. 

"Well, if you're done with this absolutely _scintillating_ conversation, then I'm leaving. Curfew's in fifteen minutes, and I'd rather not be caught out of bed by Filch-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know" replies Draco, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "Wouldn't want to tarnish the goody-two-shoes image you have going on."

She gives him a sarcastic grin. 

"I see you've finally caught on"

"Whatever"

"Oh, and Malfoy?" she questions, in a faux sweet voice.

Maya Rajesh steps closer to him for a brief second. At this proximity, he's able to smell her pomegranate shampoo, see the dark tint of black in her navy eyes that makes her look, if only for a moment, like a _threat._

"The next time you even _think_ about spilling a word of what you saw that night," she continues, the tone of her voice becoming terrifyingly icy, "Keep in mind that I know ten different ways to stab you with a quill. _Lethally_. And if you don't want to die at fourteen, I suggest you keep your mouth _shut."_

Draco scoffs as she leaves, her petite figure making it's way down the stairs before disappearing completely out of sight. A nervous shudder runs down his spine at the thought of what could possibly happen if she went through with her threat. Maya Rajesh may be part-firecracker, but she's not crazy enough to actually impale him-

Right?

* * *

"So Trelawney just went completely psycho on you for _no reason?_ " asks Diana, incredulously, as they walk to their lessons.

Even though the younger Malfoy is in the year _below_ Maya, their schedules coincidentally align after lunch on Thursdays, making it easier for them to walk to their seperate classes together. Contrary to what you might think, it's not completely because of whatever agreement she naively made with Malfoy. Maya actually enjoys Diana's presence in her life. Something about her bubbly, cheerful personality is hard to resist, like a walking ray of sunshine. 

It isn't so hard to believe why she's been sorted into Hufflepuff. 

"I know it sounds crazy," replies Maya, nervously rubbing her arms, "But there's no other way to describe it. One second she's stirring the tea, the next, acting like she's from _The Exorcist"_

"What's that?"

"Munda - _Muggle_ horror movie. It's famous for the scene where the possessed girl turns her head three-hundred-and-sixty degrees."

"Ugh," grimaces Diana, shuddering as she paints a mental picture in her head, "That must've been quite a shock"

"It was," replies Maya, looking down at the ground, "W-what if - what if what she said actually comes true? Could Professor Trelawney have predicted something?"

"I doubt it," answers Diana, looking skeptical, "She uses her ancestry as a form of credibility. And Draco's always saying that-"

"Wait, you two have started talking again?"

Diana sheepishly looks down at the ground, confirming Maya's suspicions. 

"Not in public - _don't look at me like that!!"_

Maya looks away, cheeks flushed. 

"What do you mean?"

Diana sighs, exasperated. 

"He told me that even though it's a disappointment that I'm in Hufflepuff, I couldn't exactly control what happened. And although our parents probably aren't going to forgive me for a _while,_ it doesn't change the fact that I'll always be his somewhat annoying little sister-"

Maya rolls her eyes at this. 

"Though I'd probably say he's the more irritating one."

 _Tell me about it,_ goes her mind, _That guy has ZERO chill._

"You know I'm not going to treat you any differently, right?" states Maya, suddenly, "Since you're a Malfoy in Hufflepuff? Trust me, I know _exactly_ what it feels like to not belong-"

"You do?" questions Diana, surprised. 

Maya sighs. 

"Look, back in New York, I've dealt with my fair share of discrimination. I mean, what else do you expect with a single mother who's a Shadowhunter?-"

"Your mother is a _Shadowhunter?!"_

 _"_ Long story. Anyway, don't think too much about it, okay? From what I've experienced, people - especially kids - are scared of what's _different._ And honestly? You shouldn't be giving a flying fuck about what _they_ think. You're here for a reason, and even though things haven't turned out like you expected, it's up to you to _own it"_

Diana looks at her in surprise, a faint pink tint covering her pale skin. Maya gives her a questioning smile, reaching back and adjusting the strands falling out from her ponytail. 

"What?"

"That....actually isn't horrible advice"

* * *

Needless to say, Maya is very, _very_ late for defense against the dark arts.

Their teacher thankfully isn't here yet; She slides into a seat in the back and opens up her copy of " _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection"_ , and wait, usnusually quiet. Soon she heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he enters the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They can all just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

“You can put those away,” he growls, stomping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

They return the books to their bags, Ron looking excited. Moody takes out a register, shakes his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and begins to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivels around, fixing upon each student as he or she answers. 

“Right then,” he says, as the last person declares themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures — you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?”

 _Does accidentally running into one count?_ Maya thinks to herself, shuddering as she remembered the time Magnus had gone to Jade Wolf, a hub for New York's werewolves disguised as a Chinese restaurant - which also, incidentally, serves pretty good chow mein.

There is a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses,” 

Moody looks directly at her as the words leave his lips, an inexplicable chill going down her spine at his gaze. Maya doesn't know why she suddenly feels so uneasy, unconsciously shifting in her seat. His magical eye isn't spinning for once - the electric blue orb is looking _directly at her._ She gulps, his x-raying gaze feeling as though he's trying to unpack her mind, become privy to secrets only _she_ has ever been allowed to know. 

Suddenly, something feels off.

“So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —”

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurts out.

Moody’s magical eye spins around to stare at Ron; Ron looks extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiles — the first time Maya has seen him do so. The effect makes his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it's nevertheless good to know that he ever does anything as friendly as smile. Ron looks deeply relieved.

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody says. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. . . . Yeah, I’m staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore. . . . One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.”

He gives a harsh laugh and then claps his gnarled hands together.

“So — straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”

Lavender jumps, blushing. She's been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently, Moody’s magical eye can see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

Which does _nothing_ to calm her nerves about their strange new teacher.

“So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

Several hands rise tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody points at Ron, though his magical eye is still fixed on Lavender.

“Er,” says Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one. . . . Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?”

The name rings a faint bell in her head, though clearly not a good one, considering the sick feeling in her stomach that arises with it.

“Ah, yes,” says Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.”

Moody gets heavily to his mismatched feet, opens his desk drawer, and takes out a glass jar. Three large black spiders are scuttling around inside it. Maya sees Ron recoil slightly at the sight — she remembers that he has a fear of spiders. Moody reaches into the jar, catches one of the spiders, and holds it in the palm of his hand, so that they can all see it. He then points his wand at it and mutters, _“Imperio!”_

The spider leaps from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and begins to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretches out its legs rigidly, then backflips, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it begins to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerks his wand, and the spider rises onto two of its hind legs and goes into what is unmistakably a tap dance. Everyone's laughing — everyone except Maya.

She squeezes her eyes shut, slumping against the desk while her hands cover her face. It's like a switch has suddenly flipped inside her - her heartbeat is so loud that she's sure everyone can hear the thundering inside her chest. She swallows, to calm the sudden dryness in her mouth, a cold, clammy sweat forming on her skin as she runs a suddenly trembling hand through her hair, completely petrified at the sudden crack in her facade. Maya doesn't know why she's reacting like this to something so small and insignificant - almost like a low-grade anxiety attack that's triggered by a _spider_ of all thing. All she can perceive is the strong urge for it to _stop,_ for Moody to put down his wand, for the spider to go back into his pocket.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” growls their teacher. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter dies away almost instantly.

“Total control,” says Moody quietly as the spider balls itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats . . .” Ron gives an involuntary shudder.

Maya finally manages the courage to sit back up, hands still covering part of her face. Her skin is glazed with sweat, and she can feel the stares at her hands, which still bear traces of the nervous tremors that plagued them moments ago. 

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” says Moody, and Maya knows he's talking about the days in which Voldemort was all-powerful. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. “The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barks, and everyone jumps.

Maya suddenly wishes she never, _ever_ signed up for Defense Against The Dark Arts.

Moody picks up the somersaulting spider and throws it back into the jar.

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand flies into the air again and so, to Maya’s surprise, so does Neville’s. The only class in which Neville usually volunteers information was Herbology, which is easily his best subject. Neville looks surprised at his own daring.

“Yes?” says Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

“There’s one — the Cruciatus Curse,” says Neville in a small but distinct voice. Maya's heart sinks. Moody is looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

“Your name’s Longbottom?” he says, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nods nervously, but Moody makes no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reaches into the jar for the next spider and places it upon the desktop, where it remains, motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” says Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he saus, pointing his wand at the spider. “ _Engorgio!”_

The spider swells. It is now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushes his chair backward, as far away from Moody’s desk as possible. Moody raises his wand again. He points it at the spider, and mutters, “ _Crucio!_ ”

At once, the spider’s legs bend in upon its body; it rolls over and begins to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound comes from it, but Maya is sure that if it can speak, screams would be ringing throughout the room. Moody does not remove his wand, and the spider starts to shudder and jerk more violently —

Maya doesn't know what comes over her in the next few moments, her stomach lurching violently, feeling like she's going to vomit any second.

" _Stop it!"_ she half-screams, shrilly, "Just stop, please!!"

The room lapses into pin-drop silence, and she can feel Hermione's horrified stare in her direction. “ _Reducio_ ,” Moody mutters, and the spider shrinks back to its proper size. He puts it back into the jar.

“Pain,” says Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was very popular once too."

 _This is sick,_ spits her mind, venomously, _This is so fucking sick._

He looks around them, eyes fixing on her in particular. 

"And I suppose you, Miss Rajesh, will be able to tell us the last one?"

Maya gulps, feeling herself break out into a cold sweat once more. Her fists clench violently, fingernails digging into her palms and probably leaving marks, but she couldn't care less about breaking skin right now. Something catches in her throat, some impediment telling her to contain her speech, push down the meek _'yes'_ that threatens to leave her throat. 

Her voice is a whisper when she finally works up the courage to speak. 

" _No"_

Moody laughs, clearly thinking that she made a mistake. 

"I'm sorry?"

Maya clears her throat, standing up and placing her hands on her desk with more confidence than she originally planned. 

"I said no. I don't want to tell you the answer"

He looks at her for a moment, expressionless as people start to whisper around them.

_What are you doing?!?!_ screams the rational part of her brain _You need to keep your head down, not invite trouble!!_

Maya knows this by heart; it's what's been ingrained into her psyche all this time. In the Shadow world, damn the righteous ways to uphold _"justice"_ as they call it, whistle-blowing is what gets you killed. And in Nandini's case, as Maya has been forced to observe, drawing attention to yourself is the last thing you want to do, especially if you're already in hot water with the clave. And in a world where the cells of your blood determine everything, it's practically a death sentence to make any type of noise. 

She's surprised the clave hasn't eradicated her yet. 

Moody chuckles, a hint of menace in his tone. 

"Well, I don't know what you were taught in America, but in my class, you won't have that option"

Looking back, she thinks the next few moments were fueled by pure insanity. 

"Then I guess I don't want to be in your class anymore"

Maya slides out of her seat, slinging her schoolbag over her shoulder with finality. Her shoes - plain black mary janes that she detests beyond belief - click rapidly against the floor, falling into line with the shouts that ring after her as she exits the room. 

She knows the impression she's suddenly made on everyone. 

And that it will undoubtedly get her in trouble later. 

But oddly, her own plight is the farthest thing from her mind. 

Instead, her insides are twisted into knots with suspicion, fear. 

Something is very, very wrong with Mad-Eye Moody. 

And it definitely doesn't have anything to do with his wooden leg.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this story on Quotev.com here - https://www.quotev.com/story/13440814/IN-THE-END-draco-malfoy


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